i think i'm going to give this blogging thing a go for purely selfish reasons. here's why...
i first began studying photography in 2001. before that i never took pictures, i wrote. i wrote for a weekly newspaper. i wrote poetry. i tried to write several novels and failed abysmally. i think 30 pages was as far as i ever got. i wrote daily in many, many journals. i usually had at least two or three going at one time because i am a sucker for beautiful notebooks. i can't stop myself from buying them. in short, i was drowning in words.
then photography came along. no words. no thoughts. just vision, sensation, reaction, liberation. i was freed from the confines of my brain and i expanded into the universe. i was instantly hooked on this wordless world, and i have followed photography's quiet path with great joy for the past 10+ years.
over those years i have continued to write, but in short, quickly jotted sentences... ideas, thoughts, observations, quotes... no long, analytical pages of developed reasoning. i think, perhaps, this absence of words, of deep thought, has prevented my photography from growing and evolving as i would like it to. i think it may be time for me to bring words into my photography practice. and this from a woman who abhors artist statements.
i believe words and images can work together to the benefit of both. that's why i've chosen this image, Intersecting Paths. this blog will afford me the opportunity to test this hypothesis. stay tuned. things could get interesting around here.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
in the dark
i was in the darkroom yesterday, after a couple of days of producing satisfying, but basically ho hum work, when this image appeared in the developer. i wasn't really expecting much from the image since it was a tad overexposed on my contact sheet and didn't appear too exciting. i certainly wasn't expecting my heart to stop with excitement. but it did. i couldn't stop looking at this simple tree in the sunlight. it was perfect. i quickly developed three more prints and then went on working.
this morning, based on past experience, i anticipated a huge letdown when i went into the darkroom to look at the print again, now curled and dry on the rack. i never like my work the day after printing. it always looks drab and boring and trite and why am i wasting my time creating this rubbish. trees died for this, you know?
for some inexplicable reason, i still loved this image. even without the wonderful water sheen that coats an image when you pull it from the wash. it still made me happy and proud and eager to take another picture and develop another print.
this got me to wondering... why? why this image? what is it in this tiny black and white print that makes my heart sing?
first, i think, it's the simplicity. it's just a tree in the sunlight. nothing more, but that's all it needs to be. it's also the textures. the way the bark of the tree echos the grittiness of the wall. it's the dance of the leaves and the dappled light. it's the wonder of this little tree growing from the concrete of a busy Manhattan cross street. finally, it's the fact that these miraculous moments are occurring right now, all around us, and all we have to do is venture out, slow down and take a look.
this morning, based on past experience, i anticipated a huge letdown when i went into the darkroom to look at the print again, now curled and dry on the rack. i never like my work the day after printing. it always looks drab and boring and trite and why am i wasting my time creating this rubbish. trees died for this, you know?
for some inexplicable reason, i still loved this image. even without the wonderful water sheen that coats an image when you pull it from the wash. it still made me happy and proud and eager to take another picture and develop another print.
this got me to wondering... why? why this image? what is it in this tiny black and white print that makes my heart sing?
first, i think, it's the simplicity. it's just a tree in the sunlight. nothing more, but that's all it needs to be. it's also the textures. the way the bark of the tree echos the grittiness of the wall. it's the dance of the leaves and the dappled light. it's the wonder of this little tree growing from the concrete of a busy Manhattan cross street. finally, it's the fact that these miraculous moments are occurring right now, all around us, and all we have to do is venture out, slow down and take a look.
Friday, April 20, 2012
a misty morning between the trees
my new friend Bill (and sole follower) recently suggested that i begin posting some of my work here on my nascent blog. i will begin by posting just this one image. i took it in my backyard early on a foggy morning. i think i was still in my pajamas. i saw the fog. i saw the sun beginning to break through the mist. i pulled on shoes, grabbed my camera and raced out the back door. i was lost in the fog for several hours and three rolls of black and white film. i would have stayed forever, but i ran out of film.
in the ten years that i have been seriously practicing photography, i have discovered that most of my best images come from places i return to over and over again... like my simple backyard. because it is comfortable, familiar territory, i look deeper, and i find i go beyond the surface of things with greater ease. i am relaxed. i feel safe. and i can move rather smoothly into the photographer's zone. what my friend Bill calls the state of "listening with your eyes." i think that's a perfect description. your senses are heightened and you are attuned to all that is around you. you see new things. you feel new sensations. everything almost tingles and glows.
that is why i love photographing my world so very much... it always takes me to a new place, even when i'm just standing in my old, humdrum backyard. that's magical.
in the ten years that i have been seriously practicing photography, i have discovered that most of my best images come from places i return to over and over again... like my simple backyard. because it is comfortable, familiar territory, i look deeper, and i find i go beyond the surface of things with greater ease. i am relaxed. i feel safe. and i can move rather smoothly into the photographer's zone. what my friend Bill calls the state of "listening with your eyes." i think that's a perfect description. your senses are heightened and you are attuned to all that is around you. you see new things. you feel new sensations. everything almost tingles and glows.
that is why i love photographing my world so very much... it always takes me to a new place, even when i'm just standing in my old, humdrum backyard. that's magical.
Monday, March 5, 2012
a couple years later...
read a thought-provoking blog today, Paul Romaniuk's The Bertie Project, about photography in the digital age. i felt compelled to respond to his blog, and my response led me back to this blog, created several years ago and promptly forgotten. since i have no idea how to delete posts, thought i'd post a quick update...
--have changed the title of the blog.
--have no expectations that anyone will ever read this.
--love the fact that i'm returning to this blog just as everyone is predicting the death of blogs.
--cannot figure out whether all this internet stuff is beneficial or just dust in the wind.
--have created a web site. have created a facebook profile and page.
--no twitter. no google+. just a name on linked-in.
--too many passwords for this tired brain.
--no pinterest... thank god.
--it's overwhelming.
--how do i simplify?
--do i even want to indulge?
where i belong is behind the camera, or in the darkroom. not sitting in front of a computer wasting time and talking to the vast empty void of cyberspace.
so i remain totally confused and conflicted.
--do i go with my private journals or the potentially not-so-private blog?
--do i continue to create and manage my cyber identity, or just try to be content with my actual self in the flesh and blood world?
it's hard enough being me. do i really want to be a cyber me?
i'll get back to you in a couple years. i'm heading out now to crouch behind a few trees and take some photographs.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
This is harder than it looks, Part II
here, to the best of my recollection, is what should have appeared above...
that, in a nutshell, is what should have appeared above...my first post, now relegated to my second. how apropos...confirming all my latent computer/blogging fears. maybe it's for the best. i have now successfully written my second post, thereby guaranteeing that i will not be a one hit wonder.
"i thought this blogging stuff was going to be a snap...easy as pie. just type my thoughts and fire them off into the vast, overpopulated, hyper-chattering blogosphere, where they can wander, lost and lonely, for all eternity.
i am now on my fourth draft (make that the fifth) of my first blog. say what????
so, to put myself out of my misery, i think i'll just preview (this is where i went wrong) and then publish this post, hoping that it's like jumping off a high board...terrifying the first time you do it, but, once you hit the water, something you want to do over and over again until your lips turn blue.
before i take the plunge and push those dreaded computer keys (you can see above where that got me) let me just say that I LOVE PHOTOGRAPHY!!! i love how it takes me OUT OF MY MIND (hence the title of this blog). and i want to share my thoughts on all things photographic...and artistic...and poetic...and aesthetic...with myself (does that make sense?) and my friends and my followers (who, at this point in my blogging career, amount to me, myself and you know who).
so, here goes....this may be my first and last post. or, today a blogger may be born.
the suspense is killing me."
that, in a nutshell, is what should have appeared above...my first post, now relegated to my second. how apropos...confirming all my latent computer/blogging fears. maybe it's for the best. i have now successfully written my second post, thereby guaranteeing that i will not be a one hit wonder.
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