Egads!

i made it into the darkroom yesterday.  it took me awhile to get my groove on, but after an hour printing my work it began to feel right and natural once again.  i didn't wind up with anything i really loved, but i was happy and content.

this morning, when i went down to check if my prints were dry, i discovered the BRAND NEW box of 250 sheets of Ilford fiber paper ($256.50 + S&H) i had JUST OPENED was not what i had ordered.  the box was labelled correctly ~ Ilford Semi-Matte ~ but the paper inside was glossy, which i DO NOT WANT for my images.  and B&H, where i purchased the paper, is closed for the NEXT WEEK for Succoth.

OK, i'll stop with the capital and bold letters now.  this means i can't print my work, and that makes Patricia a very unhappy girl.  looks like i'll be forced to catch up on my contact sheets after all, which i print on RC.  so, maybe in the long run, this packaging mistake was a good thing.  but it doesn't feel that way right now.

Stairway to Heaven (2), 2011

Dancing in the Dark

today, at long last, i have a few hours to return to the darkroom.  events have conspired to keep me in the light for the past several months and i am craving a quick fix of fixer.

the cold water from my faucet is still not quite cool enough to start developing the 50+ rolls, and the 40+ sheets of 4x5 film i've accumulated over the summer.  just a few more crisp autumn nights and the cold water should finally drop below the 68 degree mark.  can't wait! 

the anticipation of what treasures, or trash await me in that undeveloped film is one of the great joys of analog photography.  it's like Christmas Eve all year long.  i could never give it up for the instant gratification of digital photography.

in the meantime, i'll have to scratch my darkroom itch by printing some older negatives.  i also have many, many, many contact sheets to develop, but i'm trying to ignore them.

will productive Patricia, or creative Patricia win out today?  either way, i'll be dancing in the dark with a big smile in my heart.

Ella, 2008

Going Big

this morning i took a couple images to master digital photographer and printer, Jim Roselli of Xact Studios in Hillsborough, NJ, to find out how they would look big... for me.  i normally print (in the darkroom) quite small ~ a 5"x7" image looks huge to me.  But this spring, my girls, the incredible les Femmes Photales, will be exhibiting at the newly renovated Reeves-Reed Arboretum in Summit, and the director and curator, Frank Juliano, would like to see big prints (16"x20") on the walls for the gala reopening.  i do not, let me repeat, do not, have to produce bigger work for this show ~ there is plenty of room for my small stuff ~ but i've always been curious about how my work would look large, so i've decided to find out.

here's one of the images i took to Jim...

Homestead Sunflowers (5), 2012

i'll let you know how it turns out...

Cleaning House... Really

i'm busy cleaning for house guests.  epic dislike... for the cleaning part, not the guests part.  this means i only have a second to put down my dust mop and post a quick image and quote.  bathrooms await...

Abandoned (9), 2010

"... if you do it with enough assurance and confidence, you're allowed to do whatever you like." ~ Neil Gaiman, in reference to writing, but it certainly applies to photography as well!

One Week

an image and a quote to celebrate one week of posting.

Lake Michigan, 2011





"Every silver image has to become a greater experience than what the eye saw."

~ Ruth Bernhard

Light

this morning i discovered the following quote on the facebook page of my new friend, British photographer Gary Ligget ~

"Amateurs worry about equipment, 

professionals worry about money, 

masters worry about light..."

sorry, no attribution was given, but i'll see if i can track down who wrote, or said these wise words.

the quote is a little snooty, i'll admit, but i still love it because photography really is all about the light.  for me, it is not so much a "worry" about the light as it is a deep and abiding fascination with the play and power of light.   i am drawn to the movement of light across surfaces, how it peeks from behind leaves, how it caresses a loved one's face, how it streams through the clouds and touches the distant mountains.  it is pure magic.  one of the greatest gifts we are given.

i am a slave to the light.

Bordentown Marsh (6), 2011



Showing My Work

today, my first ever "art handler" arrived at my home to pick up my images and transport them to the art gallery at Johnson & Johnson for my upcoming show.  it was quite a treat.  i felt so pampered, like a "real" artist for a change, not an impostor.

that is how i usually feel at shows, like a poseur, especially at openings.  i am terribly uncomfortable with all the hoopla surrounding an art opening and i find myself anxiously awaiting my first chance to bolt.   i've even been known to try to bribe my husband Louie to take my place at openings.  i hate milling around, making small talk, schmoozing, and networking with artists, clients, curators and gallerists.  perhaps because i'm just awful at it.

unlike many artists, i cannot stand to talk about my own work.  i have always felt the viewer brings meaning to the art.  this suggests to me that i should not be blathering on and on to you about what my art is trying to say.  i should be quiet and respectful and allow you to look and make your own discoveries.  if you have a question, i should try to answer it, if i can.  but i shouldn't corner you by my piece and bend your ear for over an hour about the deep, vital significance of my work.  this makes me a not very good artist i'm afraid, especially in the marketing department.

in my ideal world, i would go happily about making my images.   my work would eventually find its way to a small, intimate, simpatico gallery, where people would see it and fall absolutely in love with it on their own... without my input, or the advice of a gallery owner or art consultant. occasionally people would discover they just had to have one of my images... just often enough to keep me supplied with film, paper and chemicals...  and my work would wind up, hanging happily ever after, in the perfect place in their homes, hopefully, all across America and beyond its shores.

of course, an art handler would always come to pick up my work and deliver it to the gallery.  is that really too much to ask for?

Bordentown Marsh (2), 2011, on its way to J&J