Louise - Shannon Wright

Have you ever felt like the lead character in the movie Run, Lola, Run? That was me today, but in a good way; lots of photography, wrapping up the week, getting ready to go out of town, and lunch at The Happy Greek with new work friends. I'll choose a crazy, fun day over one of idleness any day!



Louise is one of my favorite names. I used to have a Louise Brooks hairstyle (I kind of miss it, now that I think of it). I give "Louise" as a middle name to coworkers as a gesture of fondness. They seem to understand.

Happy weekend!

Deconstructivism

  

Hi friends, I hope you're having a delightful week. As you can see, I've been working on my art photography. I had to create a sort of deconstructivism piece from an image that I had pushed aside, something I didn't feel too precious about. I chose this watery image (top) of leaves because while it isn't perfectly in focus, I loved the colors. We were invited to do anything we wanted with the image; I tried pulling it into ArtRage to make a painting from it (middle) (If you've never played with ArtRage before, go to the website and download a 30 day trial. You'll be hooked!) . But that didn't take the picture far enough for me, so I thought I would play with layering the two images, juxtaposing the first with the second, and then working the top layer to reveal the painted one underneath. Then I put  apiece of tape on it and splattered it with paint. What would Monet think?

Chew After Meal

I had a lot to get done this weekend, and I did, actually. (I haven't solved my car problem yet.) But when my husband said to me this morning, "Grab you camera." I was ready to put my list aside. We needed an adventure on a small scale, so we drove to Utica and Roscoe, Ohio. Now, if you've ever been, you might agree with me that they could be renamed Charming, Ohio. They are. They love their history and their architecture. Just be warned that any shop you walk into, you will be expected to engage in a conversation impossible to extract yourself from for at least thirty minutes. Fair warning. But worth the trip anyway.

Aside: you think I shot these pictures in HDR, right? Nope. I fully intended to, but I shot them in RAW, my new best photography friend.

Happy Daylight Savings!

If you want to see more pictures from this adventure, please go here.

Freddie Good Time - Jane Lui

Here's a perfect song to float into the weekend with. I've got a packed weekend ahead; the most exciting part is preparing my final photography project. That, and trying to decide what to do about an ailing car I'm reluctant to replace (I hate spending money on cars!). How will you enjoy the weekend?

Epiphany

I vividly remember leaving my first oil painting class in Boston years ago. With my my box of paints and brushes in one hand and a big sketch book in the other, I walked with new eyes. The world seemed transformed to me, into a giant canvas. Everything waited patiently to be immortalized into a vision in oil paint; sharp here, soft and blurred there, colorful, dull, straight lines, alluring curves. It was a sort of visual epiphany.

Not so long ago, I started taking photography classes obediently enough, just taking another technical class because the ones I required were once again discontinued. I had a modest little point & shoot which was acceptable for the class. I wasn't interested in creating art, not with a camera at least. Painting was my expression of line and color.

Little did I realize I would soon be feverishly re-looking up photographers I had long been familiar with to study their styles anew. And researching new photographers that had a unique way of describing this strange, wonderful world we live in. Seeing the world for every nuance it had to offer, and yes, wanting to make art. With a camera.

A true artist is not restricted to a single medium. She uses all the tools available to her to convey thoughts, ideas and experiences to others. The need to communicate these experiences is essentially human.

What are your thoughts?

November is ...

So, I completely flunked 'October is Purple', didn't I? Ah well, perhaps it isn't so purple after all. That doesn't stop me from having a few ideas for November. I've decided to take my qeue from Brian and post more (but not strictly) black & white photos throughout the month of November. That should be easily achieved. This could inspire me to try out the analog SLR camera my brother-in-law so kindly gave me. It will be interesting to see how well I can work with one kind of film at a time, and since I don't have access to a dark room, how well I can let go of the post-processing manipulation I'm accustomed to. I also intend to do much more cooking in November. There's something about the cooler air, and exchanging my summer wardrobe for my winter wardrobe that compells me to want to put on an apron, turn on some Rosemary Clooney, and start cooking.

What will your November be like?

Toy

My photo assignment this week was to take a favorite childhood toy and photograph it in a displaced manner.

First of all, I didn't have a lot of childhood toys to begin with. I don't say this with any regret; I spent most of my childhood outside playing in the woods behind the house, which was my own big, private playground. I liked playing outside. And I don't recall the few toys I did have with any passionate fondness.

I certainly didn't save any toys from my childhood, so I had to figure something out. I went to the thrift store, certain I would find something that spoke to me and was somehow in keeping with the assignment. And that's when I found her. I've never owned a porcelain doll, and considering this is Halloween, she takes on a real spookiness. I photographed her outside in the dried leaves, I propped her up on the window sill, even situated her in a tree. No matter where I put her, she seemed to be witness to some horrid crime. I have to wonder ... whose doll was she? And what did she see?

I think she does conjure some childhood emotions. Like fear, to name one.

If you want to see the other shots of her, please go here.

The XX - Crystalised

In Columbus, we always have Begger's Night on any night but Halloween. No one seems to know when this started and why this persists, but it does. Last night I gave candy to a Satanic Mechanic, a murdered Catholic school girl, a very young vampire, and many storm troopers. Just when you though that creative, hand-made costumes had gone by the way-side ...

When I was little, stores didn't really sell Halloween costumes, so you had to make them from scratch. I can recall being Pippy Long-Stockings, a Gypsy, an Indian Princess, and some kind of robot made with cardboard boxes and lots of aluminum foil. I applaud those diligent parents who have fun with their children, dressing them in outlandish outfits for one night in the year!

Happy Halloween, friends!



I like the layers in this music, don't you?

Solitude

I was agonizing over this week's photo assignment of defining my 'muse' when I serendipitously received an article in the mail from my dear friend Leann. The article was a speech given by writer William Deresiewicz to West Point graduates on solitude and leadership. I read it and reread it with interest. You could have easily exchanged the word 'leadership' for 'creativity' and, there it was, I had my muse.

I thought about solitude and its role in creativity. Mind you, I like people. I like talking and laughing with them and sharing ideas. But one needs solitude to create; time to digest and contemplate the day, the world around you, and define one's own relationship to it all.

The assignment required that I not only photograph with this muse in mind, but write a poem about, or to, the muse. I took photos from my weekend project (102310) and converted them all to infrared images, which always appealed to me because of this otherworldly quality it brings to images.

My project:

And my poem.

To Solitude


I was alone when

You sat next to me so quietly

I hardly noticed you approach.

Taking my senses into your pale hands

You walked with me

Silently, pointing to little things

We noticed in unison.

We allowed things to go unsaid;

The smell of coffee at the breakfast table;

A snail’s glistening trail;

The silver laughter of children playing;

The worn gilding on old leather books; and

A gentle breeze rustling the midnight trees.

We spent our days getting drunk

On the music of crickets and cicadas

And the rapid drumming of rain on the roof.

You guarded the door against intruders

While I inspected the filigree of frost on a window pane

Where time was distilled into this single moment.