Old and In The Way, Part 3 ~

Boy, talk about some old skills. Most old photo dogs like me spent a great deal of time honing our printing skills in the darkrooms of yore, the Thomas safelight buzzing, hypo fumes wafting into our noses (and hearts and lungs, presumably), and water running, running, running, all day long. Good times. I miss 'em. And that was all state-of-the-art for the time: modern techniques, chemical processes, even the optics and electronics of enlargers and cold-light heads. But what I got really excited about were the ways of making photographs from the earlier, non-silver era of our medium.
I worked a lot in Gum Dichromate; the image above is a portrait I took of my daughter Sara in 1988. I made the negative in my 8 x 10 Burke & James camera, and the printing process involved laying down an emulsion of gum arabic mixed with watercolor pigment on good quality watercolor paper. The emulsion was made light-sensitive by the addition of potassium dichromate, and the negative was contact-printed directly upon it, being exposed to strong ultraviolet light, and then "processed" under gently running water. It was a long, meticulous process getting a good image, sometimes requiring building up many layers over and over. Beer drinking was often involved.

I was thinking a lot about that recently, and my musings lead me to pen a few notes about it here. I've always tried to explore the artistic limits of the craft of photography, every bit as much now as I did 20 or 30 years ago. Maybe even more so. Some say that now you can achieve these results with the pouch of a button, but that's far from the truth. We have infinitely more avenues to push ourselves, to seek and express that creative voice, then we've ever had before.

Someone once complimented the great cellist Pablo Casals on his exquisite music; he was then in his 80's, and responded that, yes, he felt he was starting to get the hang of it.

I'm having the time of my life as a photographer. I have quite a ways to go yet, but yes, I think I'll eventually get the hang of it, too.

On Sharp Lenses and Fuzzy Brains ~

One of my all-time favorite maxims, from that wonderful compendium of T. Orland, is this: when man creates a sharper lens, nature will create a fuzzier subject.  I'm reminded of this every time I find myself in a conversation about cameras and lenses, which is pretty much all the time. Whether we deny it or not, deep inside we're all more-or-less gearheads.
I love reading Ken Rockwell's (kenrockwell.com) photography posts, one of which directly addressed the issue of lens sharpness with the somewhat alarming opening statement that "sharpness is the most over-rated aspect of lens performance." But he goes on to detail all the ways we measure, quantify, fuss over and generally over-think whatever the hell "sharpness" is. His message, and mine, has always been to properly use whatever lenses you have and not worry about coughing up a couple grand for that new lens that will supposedly make you a better photographer.

As for me, seems I mostly shoot for the web these days anyway, so I'm not as concerned about print quality as I used to be. When I do make prints they're just as rich and colorful (and sharp) as I  expect them to be.  Down here at the studio, both Whitney and I use our Canon cameras and lenses. For my aimless wandering now I rely on my trusty little mirrorless Fuji. In the old days, when I was shooting mostly medium format, I preferred lenses that were referred to as "long normals" or considered portrait lenses: the 150mm on the Hasselblad, and the 127mm on the RB 67.  Amazing lenses indeed. And expensive as hell.

And here's a recollection that just floors me: I spent a whole lot of money on Softar filters for the Hasselblad. I had both the Softar 0 and 1. Know what they were for? You guessed it, they softened the image slightly because the Zeiss lenses were too bloody sharp.  Life is funny that way.

So I think I'll live by an entirely new maxim:  Sharp lens, sharp mind.

Take your pick.

On The Interpretation of Dreams (And Large Jpegs) ~

Once again I had set out to wander on a gloriously beautiful weekend -- which, in my humble opinion, is just about every weekend here in Oregon -- and found myself up in the foothills above the lovely town of Hood River (lovely for, among many other things, one of the best brewpubs along the Columbia River). It was in those hills that I got this terrific view of Mount Hood. It was a little early yet for the apple and pear orchards to be in bloom, maybe by two or three weeks, so a return visit will be in order.
I hike along in something of a dream-like state of mind, absorbing the scenery as much as photographing it. If you recall my post from last week, you'll understand how I'm really just looking for all the secrets. My little mirrorless Fuji (which sounds too formal; does it need a more appropriate pet name?) makes all these big, mysterious RAW files for me. Through the enabling processes of Photoshop CS6, onOne Perfect Photo Suite 9, the occasional Autopainter, and a decent IPA (and I hear that recreational herbage does wonders, too; just saying) the surprises of images that speak to me start emerging on my screen. I can't produce a "straight" print any more than I can dream a "straight" dream. Not even sure what that means.

Parked in a field was an old, abandoned sheepherder's wagon which I shot from every angle and viewpoint, but the image above is the one that struck a chord. It's looking through the window at the back, into an interior dissolving and deteriorating with each passing winter. I love imagining what sights that sheepherder may have seen on those lonely days, and what dreams may have occupied them.

In Eleonara, Poe says those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who only dream by night.  So, point your camera and dream, mis amigos.

You may find a good brewpub along the way.

Zen And The Art Of Being Surprised ~

Expose for the secrets, develop for the surprises.  I've lived by this proposal, and have passed it along as (hopefully) sage advice all my life as a photographer. It's not original with me -- I certainly can lay no claim to that level of wit and wisdom -- as I've heard it variously attributed to Ansel Adams, or to one of his assistants, Ted Orland. And even they may have picked it up in a bar somewhere for all I know.
In Adam's case, it would have been a way to describe how he used his zone-system of calculating exposure to accurately pre-visualize a scene; in a nutshell: expose for the shadow value and process for the highlights. Great advice with Tri-X film. Not so great with a digital sensor.

And yet I think it's the greatest piece of advice to enhance creativity I've ever heard. Learn your camera, understand your processing, figure out technique in such a manner as to completely forget about all that when you're out there chasing the light. If you get hung up on how you're shooting, you'll have a hard time understanding what you're shooting, or even why. Point the camera and let it flow, and then take delight in discovering the impact of those images when you open them up and give them meaning.

The image directly above is the secret I shot a couple weeks back on my walkabout with Bill. Wasn't much to look at, but I could tell there were some wonderful textures and colors hiding in there. What I discovered was the image at the top of this post, and it was pure joy to peel back the layers and reveal the image I felt was there, somewhere.

We're surrounded by secrets, and that's a wonderful thing, because it means we're surrounded by surprises. Deep breaths, clear your mind.

And go find them.

Photos From The Front ~

There are pictures, and then there are Pictures; and while they may be worth a thousand words, some of them speak with a force and immediacy that cannot easily be ignored.  These photographs, taken by a twenty-something kid on the rolling deck of an aircraft carrier in the South China Sea in 1971, are just such images.

That kid, of course, is my brother Jim, and the camera he used was the Nikon Photomic F that I profiled a couple months ago in a post here. He recently rediscovered the treasure trove of his Ektachrome slides and black & white negatives and prints and set upon the task of scanning and restoring them. It's the project of a lifetime, and eminently worthwhile, that allows us to catch a first-hand glimpse into a life shared by few, and a history fading from view.

I love these photographs. They're just straight prints, minimally processed, no photoshop other than to size them for the web. The eye is unschooled but the vision is clear and straightforward, leading from this point onward to a man who would become an artist, a humanist, a healer. And a damn good photographer.

We're captivated by photographs from the war front, from the Civil War, the World Wars, Vietnam (such as these) all the way to Iraq and Afghanistan. Ones taken by the famous war photographers are forever seared into our consciousness, but just as powerful are the ones taken by the young soldiers and sailors just trying to make it through the day.

Just like that kid on the rolling deck of an aircraft carrier in the South China Sea in 1971.

A Short Discourse on Photography, the iPhone, and Urban Fishing ~

I had set out this past weekend to to engage in what has become a favored pastime: to wander about, observe interesting things, take some pictures, and go fishing. All at the same time. I have the first part of that covered pretty well. My Fuji mirrorless camera is pretty darn easy to carry around with me, even with a couple lenses, and if I'm aimlessly wandering with no direction in mind other than to see if I can stay out of trouble, then there's no excuse not to pack the iPhone in my pocket either.

And that's exactly how I go fishing.

So I set out at the crack of dawn (ok, probably a little closer to the crack of noon) with my fishing gear that consists of an insulated cooler, some ice, and a credit card. There are a couple of wonderful Asian markets in our fair city that you can rely on to have the freshest fish and exotic produce, all of which can provide amazing culinary -- and photographic -- experiences. Both of these images were made with my iPhone; I went to two different markets and could have wandered about them for hours. There was no shortage of things to see and images to form in my mind and in my camera: so many colors and textures that were just dazzling.
It's not always necessary to drive for miles looking for the perfect photograph; more often than not, it's right in front of you just before you hit the check-out line.

Oh, and the halibut I caught was delicious. And did I mention the sakè?

A Little Windowlight Love ~

I'm not full of wisdom. Not sure I even have that many good ideas. But one thing I am sure of is simply this: If you're not finding something new and different and challenging and fun in your creative life -- whatever that may be -- you die a little each day from terminal boredom. And I hate when that happens.
Years back, a fellow portrait photographer and I would take great pleasure in looking at how light was falling on people we would casually see in restaurants and bars; die-hard studio guys, we nonetheless thought many times that we were looking at what would have been lovely portraits. But our cameras -- big ol' medium formats -- were always back at the studio, so we had only our eyes and a few beers to appreciate what we saw. This is the great liberation of the digital camera, and even more, the smartphone camera. I'm never, ever, without my iPhone, and I've become almost fanatical in my desire to chase down that great light and make those portraits I saw in my mind all those years ago.

This is what's so neat about the iPhone: it's spontaneous, unplanned, creativity-on-the-fly when you find yourself in that perfect place with perfect light. So I have a call-out to all of you to help me find those wonderful places with big windows and the kind of light that makes your knees go weak. Restaurants and bars; living rooms and hotel lobbies; the places that are all around us. If you know of such places, I want to go there with you and make a portrait.

Terminal boredom? No, never.

But maybe a few beers.

There's Always Something There ~

Your mission, should you decide to accept it.....   is to go where you haven't been before, where it looks decidedly unphotographic, where the weather is rainy/cloudy/windy/wet (insert your own dreaded condition) and find that one image that will knock your socks off. It can be done. You can do it.
And so once again, stepping off into the (sort of) unknown, the intrepid Bill and Chaz and your's truly went wandering about parts of the industrial NW of Portland (our fair city) that were unfamiliar to me. This time there were no great bridges over great rivers, and no natural or man-made monuments to capture the heart. Just buildings, reflections, textures, puddles, and inspiration. And decent coffee.

There are two axioms I try to live by when it comes to my photography. One is that you really can find the extraordinary image just when (and where) you think you can't. It may be something beautiful or powerfully raw, something dark or downright whimsical, but it's definitely there. The other is that your camera really doesn't matter, and shouldn't be used as an excuse holding you back.

In fact, I have a notion to go wandering with someone who is not at all interested in photography; a poet perhaps, a philosopher, a wanderer with  a fine eye and a way with words. I wonder, would we look at the same things? I'd be interested in how that might change what I focus on and shoot.

 I have a hunch I may see things differently.

Somewhere Along the Edge ~

After a certain age, pretty much all our discussions turn into philosophical discussions. And so it was the other day in conversation with my fellow philosopher and wanderer Richard, as we idly speculated on where --  and what -- was beauty. As no alcohol was involved in this particular discussion, we couldn't come up with any particular Great Truth. Darn. But I was able to provide to myself, at least, some clarity to a philosophy about photography I have held for many, many years.

When you see a beautiful sunset, look behind you to see what it means. It's where day meets night, where light meet shadow. It's where the sea meets the shore, where a smile turns inward; where there is sadness and joy, harmony and discord, yin and yang.

All the really interesting things happen here, at the edges. That's where I go looking, and that's where you can find me.

That's where I'll set up my tripod.

A Walkabout In The Fog ~

Just to be clear, there's a mighty big distinction between a walkabout in the fog and wandering around in a fog. The former is the subject, more or less, of today's blog, and the latter is my usual morning affliction sans café. This past Sunday turned out to be a perfect day to grab a camera and go, which is exactly what Bill and I did. We were supposed to meet up and review the on-line projects we're working on, but that sparkling interplay of sunlight and fog along the Willamette proved irresistible. The photo above was taken from the Broadway Bridge with the 55-200 f/3.5-4.8 on my trusty little Fuji.

First up, however, was a loading dose of coffee and some lunch at Goose Hollow Inn, one of my favorite haunts in the city.  Yes, we accomplished some actual business without being too greatly distracted. We're working on a book about the how's and why's of studio lighting that we'll publish as an e-book, we have a series of workshops, and of course, endlessly itchy feet (figuratively only, I assure you) that look for those opportunities to go a-wandering with good shoes, good eyes, and good glass. And it appears that we're not the only ones.

Over the past year or so, whenever I've gone out to wander with my camera or iPhone either by myself or with Bill or Whitney, I've heard from so many friends and readers to invite them along next time. Usually these short walkabouts are completely unplanned and spontaneous, making it hard to plan ahead to call for fellow travelers. So we're going to try to put together an unofficial travel schedule on a basis that I hope might be fairly regular to make planing a little easier. Maybe one Sunday a month? Maybe one evening a month? Who's up for that? Our hope would be to make something like this a bit more formal to include some follow-up time where we could share images and ideas, and maybe even incorporate it into our workshop schedule. Who knows. I'm just thinking out loud here.

Shoot me some feedback, I'd love to hear your ideas and if it's something you'd like to do with us.

I promise, we'll start out with some coffee.

The Exotic Places, So Close To Home ~

Being semi-retired (which means I really don't want to work very hard anymore, but kinda need the money) I try to get out and wander with my camera whenever and wherever I can. And just this week I visited one of my favorite Portland landmarks, the Lan Su Chinese Gardens. My good friend and co-conspirator Richard joined me there with his new iPhone, and after a weekend of fairly intensive rain we were happily surprised by the fair weather.

The Lan Su Gardens are considered among the most authentic outside of China, and while I can only assume that to be the case, I can certainly attest to its beauty and charm. I've been there many times all throughout the year, and each visit shows something new, something previously unseen, something so etherial it takes my breath away.

And of course, no visit there is complete without going to the Tea House. I don't know how many varieties of tea are offered there: white, green, smoked, herbal; the list is long and utterly confusing but we settled on a ginger-infused black tea that was pretty amazing.
But yes, we went there to do some photography, and you probably are expecting a little photospeak here. I brought my Fuji mirrorless and three lenses. I could have left two of them at home, the very wide and the very long. I had just picked up the 55-200 Fujinon and was so keen to use it too, but the close confines within the garden made that tough to do, so I used the little 18-55 throughout.  I took the image of the gate at the top with my iPhone 5s, and worked it Snapseed to get the result you see here. These other two were with the Fuji; both were imaged using onOne Photosuite 9, and the tea-pourer was blended with an Autopainter layer in CS6.

I'm anxious to see what Richard got; he has an artist's eye, a poet's heart, and an iPhone 6. It's impossible to wander around here and not see something breathtakingly beautiful at every turn.
It's what I love about Portland, too. So much variety, so much to see, to do, to photograph. Just park downtown and see the world.

Bring your camera.

Don't forget the tea.

Old and in the Way, Part 2 ~

So the only reason it's "vintage" day down here is because Whitney is prepping the studio for a handcrafts-product shoot, and what better background could there be to take some shots of this truly vintage Nikon Photomic F? It's the perfect backdrop for this blog about one of the all-time perfect cameras, and this one has a great story to tell.

This Nikon -- this very one -- is one of two that my brother Jim brought home from the war. Yes, that one. A Navy man at the time, he picked these up duty-free on the carrier he served on, the USS Hancock, for a couple hundred bucks apiece. Pretty sweet deal. This is the only one that survives in our family; the other, alas, having been stolen some years ago. It served with Jim on three Viet Nam deployments in '71, '72. and '73. It has been in action in Hong Kong, Japan, Thailand, the Phillipines, Taipei, and Australia. Jim says he's going to start going through that amazing collection of negatives and get them digitized so he can begin sharing them. I am definitely keen to see them.

Pictured above is the ubiquitous 50mm f/1.4, which I think every photographer of my generation ran a million frames through. On the left is one of the first great Nikon zooms, the 80-200 f/4.5. I used one of these during my apprenticeship in '73 and '74 when we shot rodeo events in Wyoming and Colorado, and I gotta tell you they were damn near indestructible. Oh, and that leather half-case: why aren't those made anymore?

So just for grins and giggles I thought I'd throw the collection of cameras we have down here today together for a quick shot. It's interesting, yes, but barely tells the story of the lives of our cameras from 1971 to today. I ended up with so many different cameras from 35mm to 8x10. In fact, the last Nikon I personally owned was the F2A and a nice handful of lenses, my favorite being the 105mm f/2.5. So sweet, so sharp.
But enough tech talk, and enough teary-eyed reminiscences. Duty calls. We have lights to set up, and a session to shoot in around an hour.

Let me tell ya, nostalgia ain't what it used to be.

Just A Quick Trip To Paradise ~

I tried to stick to my new year's resolution to attend to this blog every week, and immediately fell behind by two of them. But in my defense, the last two weeks included Christmas and New Year's, which should automatically trigger a vacation response in every North American. Me, especially, since I obviously work so darn hard...

So what's a guy to do, other than gather up an assortment of cameras and lenses and catch an early flight to Kona? It certainly sounded reasonable to me. I'd been to Hawaii many times: regular workshops and trade shows in Honolulu, and a photo trip to Kaua'i in 2013. But this was my first trip to the Big Island, and it was a joy and a revelation.
As far as gear goes, I really just travelled there with my Fuji Xe2 and the two lenses I own with it: the 18-55 f2.8-4, and the 10-24 f4. This is such an easy and lightweight system to carry around, and I'm getting more and more impressed with the precision and clarity of the optics. The images above and to the left were taken in the Tropical Botanic Gardens north of Hilo. The sun was bright and shiny, but the foliage so dense that I was shooting at an ISO of 800 and, at times, 1600. Truth be told, there's a bit of noise at 1600, but the new NR filter in Perfect Photo Suite 9 from onOne nails it down perfectly.

We stayed a couple of days down at the Kilauea volcano, and did a couple of hikes around there. (My wife calls them hikes; I likened them more to "death marches", but whatever). I never go anywhere without my iPhone 5s and took this shot of the crater, visible from the Jagger Museum, in HDR mode. Some editing in Snapseed, and finished up with some onOne filters, too.

There was plenty of snorkeling, swimming, and hanging out on the beaches around Kona, to be sure.  I saw this gorgeous tortoise swimming in the shallows at Pu'uhonoa, near Kona, and posted it to Facebook directly from my iPhone, but I've done a little extra work on it since then to bring out the incredible color and iridescence of the water.
We have a couple more trips planned this year; a trans-Canada adventure with a few days in Montreal, and hopefully the Albuquerque Balloon festival in the fall. Oh the things I'll do and the places I'll go just to make an interesting blog post. Honestly.
But Hawaii draws me back every year. There's a lot of pictures there I haven't taken yet.
And I ain't getting any younger.

Trying To Catch A Storm ~

Well, there we were again, out on the Oregon coast, seeing if we could catch a little storm action to photograph. You'd think we'd get plenty of opportunities for that up here. But as luck would have it and fate would be, the "Pineapple Express" actually rolled into northern California (thus drenching my poor brother Jim down there) leaving us with just the usual drizzle and occasional sun breaks up here in the wild north. But who's to complain? We had a wonderful time. That's an iPhone shot on the beach at Cape Kiwanda. Photo tip of the day: always go with a companion who owns a red jacket (in this case, my lovely wife Nancy, a real trooper), and have them stay a few steps ahead of you. It's better than buying a new lens!

I'm a native son of the left coast, and have tramped its shores from Coronado Bay to the Puget Sound. My wife and I take particular delight in the winter and early spring out here; the light is moody and unpredictable (like me, before I've had my coffee) and every scene invites a quiet moment of contemplation. And I certainly don't mind the rain. This old tree standing guard over an unnamed creek is at Cape Lookout, taken with my Fuji mirrorless.

It's almost Christmas, the crowds are gone, the weather is perfect, and that camera in your hand is the best damn camera in the world. You've run out of excuses.

And so have I. It's time to storm the beach.

Thinking About the Black & White Portrait ~

I'm mainly a people and portrait kind of guy. It's what initially drew me to photography and sustains my fascination even today. The studio I apprenticed at back in '73 had, among many other cameras, a big and beautiful 5 x 7 view camera with a delicious Carl Zeiss lens. As a newbie I certainly didn't appreciate it then as much as I do now in retrospect, but boy, the portraits it made (and which was my job initially to print) were stunning, as you can imagine. It was a more static, classical style which I still view as timelessly beautiful.

Over the years, portrait styles evolved as tastes changed and new equipment and technologies came along. Back in the day, a hand-help camera in the studio was considered as taboo as drinking on the job (although, now as I think about it....) My influences then were the likes of Yousef Karsh, Irving Penn, Richard Avedon, and so many others, their books at my side.

And these days I'm more than likely, as I rely on my digital cameras, to step away from the studio and shoot in color. What, then, continues to be the fascination with the black & white portrait? It's hardly an anachronism. It remains a relevant art form, capable still of producing penetrating and personal images. Maybe it's just me, but I sometimes see a great deal more texture, tonal values, and intimacy in them. And maybe we don't see it just as we did with the great films and the high-silver papers, but it's there nonetheless. My studio mate Whitney often shoots in black and white, forsaking even an original color file, and consistently produces timeless and beautiful portraits of children as well as adults.
So I'll keep at it, and hope you do too. Even though, without a darkroom to lock yourself in, it's tougher to drink on the job.

I'm just saying.

Heading Out For The Day ~

I didn't post a blog last week, and will blame it on Thanksgiving. Sorry about the interruption, but the turkey was great, the wine was plentiful, and the self-loathing for over-indulging lingered for a delicious few days. But then on Monday my friend Keri sent out a text that she was going to grab her camera and go wandering and was looking for some co-conspirators.  And that, mes amis, is my favorite outdoor activity. Like me, she is a recent convert to a mirrorless camera, the Olympus OM-D E-M5 (how do they even come up with those names?) and I am still wrapping my head and hands around the Fuji X-e2.  Wandering around the railroad tracks and warehouses of the inner SE of Portland provided some really fine colors and compositions. With our fellow co-conspirator Chaz we had a very creative and challenging (and cold!) afternoon.  My favorite shot of the day was the warehouse wall you see above. The colors and lines put me in an O'Keeffe-ish frame of mind. Does anyone else see a desert pueblo, or is it just me?

Sometimes the best photography happens when you're not thinking about it. Call up a friend, grab a camera, and just go. Anywhere. If it's a nice sunny day, don't worry; you can wait it out until the really good weather returns. The cloudiest, coldest, rainiest, windiest days are the ones made just for us. They are where the real surprises lay hidden.

A little turkey and wine wouldn't hurt, either.

Tweakable Software ~

Sometimes I just like to tweak the hell out of my photos. This frame of mind is either the result of a misspent youth, or growing up around artists. And upon reflection, I think those are both the same thing. Even a good "straight" image, like the one above, has a lot of image manipulation applied, since many years ago I realized I was less interested in reproducing what I saw than interpreting what I felt, and discovering along the way a lot of the mystery that was hiding in the image. That's why I do photography. And you? What's your excuse?

I just recently downloaded onOne Perfect Suite 9, and have been a big onOne user for a few years now. It's very robust software, and has given me so much more freedom to work and explore an image than I've ever experienced before. It's the sort of thing that keeps you at the computer until the wee hours.

But wait, there's more. As you by now are aware, I take a lot of iPhone photos, too. One of the creative apps I frequently use is called Mextures, which has some wonderfully crafted presets. And as if this all wasn't enough, if the image is appropriate I will layer it with a treatment in Auto Painter.
Because, you know, sometimes you just have to go nuts.  The wisest words ever spoken on the subject are attributed to Ansel Adams: Expose for the secrets, develop for the surprises.

Well, here's to the surprises.

Old, older, oldest ~

I have many passions (far too many, according to some) but the one that has captured my soul in photography for as long as I can remember is a passion for antique and non-silver photography. I'm an ardent collector of old photographs (but oddly not so much old cameras; I'm more a "software" guy than a "hardware" guy, I guess) and have at times been a dedicated practitioner of the arts, working in platinum and gum dichromate. The juncture of history and photography is fascinating. The one above is a salted-paper print; the inscription on the back, carefully recording the family names, is dated 1865. And why that fascinates me is this: the actual light that made this photograph reflected directly off those people, and I'm holding that light in my hand. That thrills me right down to the bone.

I had a contract for several years with Whitman College in Walla Walla, restoring old negatives and prints.  We had a beautiful old Elwood 5 x 7 diffusion enlarger, so we were able to print directly from some very old glass plate negatives. Bringing an old colloidal wet-plate negative back to life can really change the way you view photography's history, as well as your own.

The people you see reappearing on such a print, long dead more than a century,  would have interesting things to tell us if we could only listen. It makes me wonder what sorts of things we may want to tell some future restorer, a century from now, deciphering a by-then obsolete digital file.

Hope it's worth the telling.

Life in the Abstract ~

As someone who was raised in the arts I have a special fondness for the abstract and expressionist image. Photography, oddly enough, lends itself to this surprising well. We make a photograph by focusing in on a minute speck of time and space, to the exclusion of everything around it. What could be more abstract than that? We only think we recognize the trees and clouds. So I really enjoy looking for the image that has abstract, painterly qualities in itself. Like the one above: it's the side of a steam locomotive, painted in a brilliant orange, shot just above the drive wheels. By excluding the obvious and peering in on just color, line, and composition, I ended up with something that, to me at least, holds more visual interest than a simple picture of an engine.

And then there are those happy coincidences of graffiti and billboard that can end up looking like the expressionism of a troubled painter. I love discovering these serendipitous gems and trying to do them visual justice with my camera.
I always have, at the very least, my iPhone with me, and often as not even my mirrorless little Fuji camera. There's never an excuse not to constantly scan horizons near and far for art, fine or otherwise.

That little voice in my head is telling me (among so much else) to pay attention to everything, the big and the small. You never know what you'll see, but I bet it would make for a great photo.

Road Trip ~

My weekly (some say weakly) blog activity was postponed last week on account of one of my other favorite activities, a road trip. And a big fat one at that, from Portland to Chicago in a fast car. Road trips can have two possible purposes, not always mutually exclusive: to get somewhere (which is probably just a state of mind, anyway), and to wander about looking for things to see and photograph (ditto). This had both of those elements, and to see family at the other end was nothing short of wonderful. I don't often get the opportunity to photograph my big brother, a wonderful artist and musician, and am always inspired when I do. And thus the portrait above. Salúd, Ricardo.

Photographers are restless people, as artists generally are. We travel, says Anais Nin, some of us forever, to seek other states, other lives, other souls. We go the long way around just to see what there is, and for me, that's often right here in the studio. I long for the restlessness, and sometimes the itchy longing to be home again. For most of us, to travel is to be home.

Just make sure you bring a camera.