Sunday, October 31, 2010
I dislike photos that are blatantly ugly, violent, or anything depicting cruelty. I do love the challenge of creating an image that gives the viewer that subtle frisson, a tingling of goosebumps and the hint of a story....a late night tale told in front of a dwindling fire and cold tea leaves in the bottom of a thick mug by your side...
And some of the tools besides an overactive imagination? An off kilter angle, a little judicious cropping and a tiny bit of processing will take you to my "Twilight Zone."
link! Happy Halloween!
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
I think what is left out of an image informs the mind and appeals to emotions and imagination in a very personal way. The photos here were composed with that in mind and best illustrate how I connected with the subject and why I took the picture. The creative process is very different from cropping for details and removing unwanted information, an activity that can occur hours, or days after the "click." These are the result of an instant decision.
I was captivated by these windows at the home of our French hostess. The casual draping and knotted exterior curtains suggest an exuberant family lifestyle (and, indeed, it is!)
We were lucky there were so few people at Etzna. In our solitude, I could look at these old worn steps and hear the whispers of the ancient Mayan civilization. I thought this simple silhouette expressed it best.
Mere Point, Brunswick, Maine. 23 June, 2009
The summer of 2009 may well be remembered as the worst summer in years with hardly a peek of sunshine. It was, however, a photographer's dream for the rich saturated greens and wildflowers. You don't need to see the pines to understand their towering majesty.
This old place has been abandoned for as long as I can recall and I have photographed it hundreds of times. Plants are growing between the porch floorboards, the curtains hang in tatters, but if you peek through the windows, one has the sense it was recently vacated. All manner of debris litters the property and it is impossible to walk around the house except in early spring when the tall grass is matted and the nettles and bushes have not yet pushed their way through the previous year's growth. On one such day, I made my way to the back porch and it too, was a jumble of discarded items. The trees were still bare permitting a slant of sunlight to fall across the wall and door obliterating the mess and, for one moment, creating a dazzling scene.
Autumn is a glorious season in Maine, a season for walking and on this day the church loomed in front of me of me dividing the vivid sky behind the red berries with the resulting unexpected composition.
Experimenting with vivid colors and a skewed perspective.
Today's link from "You Must Remember This."
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Friday, October 8, 2010
"Waiting"....a tiny little shot from an old camera phone of JCB waiting for her flight in the Bangor airport departure lounge. At the time, she was working on one of her many exquisite needlepoint Christmas decorations. "Waiting"...it seems appropriate this week as I think of her and her gentleman....
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Random Memory #21 ~ Iran
There is a big difference from those long ago days of sitting through a language class because you were supposed to...because it's expected, to desperately needing to communicate your most basic needs. One of the first things I did after arriving in Tehran was to attend Farsi classes at the Iran America Society. I inhaled the language with its musical lilt and peculiar sounds coming from unused places in the back of my throat. I gulped down vocabulary and became a collector of words. I used each new verb and tense minutes after leaving class and practiced my new skills every day with Goli who helpfully produced an English/Farsi dictionary that was always on hand whenever we were together.
With time, I became adept at haggling in markets understanding it was as much a social function as the need to obtain a fair price. I bought most of our food at little stalls or street vendors. Tomatoes, cucumbers, eggplant, herbs and so many other things tasted better than anything I had experienced in America, but acquiring everything I needed to produce a home cooked meal was time consuming. There were no tidily wrapped cellophane packages of meat. I bought freshly killed chickens and was grateful they were plucked! I learned to squeeze my eyes shut and yank out the internal organs, but how I hated their limp dead necks, dull yellow beaks and scaly feet. I learned the verb "to cut" and asked the chicken man to "please cut off the head and feet." He would practically roll on the ground every time he heard my request, but he did it.
Monday, October 4, 2010
The Chinese characters in the title mean "Thank you! Dear" and is one of a series of comments under the photo above on Flickr. The image is nothing special, just a lucky zoom shot at Starbucks, but the human/canine relationship is universal. For months now, my Chinese friend and I have relied on "Google Translate" to communicate in words, a relationship that began with pictures of our very different worlds. I have seen indescribable scenes of Chinese antiquity, breathtaking views of the countryside, glorious temples and Holiday shots of the Great Wall on her photo stream. My friend has photographed her office and the park where she rides her bike and, through her eyes, I have seen festivals and family celebrations. In return, she has come to know the beauty of my small town and coastal life in Maine. My blog is closed to her; she is not allowed access. She is one of many contacts all across the globe, all of us united by the wonder of each other's photographs. Our governments and politicians should take note.
"Thank you! Dear."
Today's link from "You Must Remember This!"
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Do you remember how to slide down a steep bank and balance precariously on a wobbly rock?
Do you remember watching yellow leaves and glistening sticks float by in small streams and the colors in wet rocks that look like a troll's treasure?
Do you remember the swirling foam and the feel of slick rocks under your feet and a time when there was nothing else to do?
The Mill Stream in Blue Hill, Maine.
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