Sunday, May 27
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Both the historian and the artist take their cracks at describing facts to us. In real life, I'm a journalist, which is neither an historian nor an artist. We're supposed to exist in the crack between their two worlds. Writers like me are challenged, in the best of all worlds, to assemble the facts into a pile through which historians and artists sort.
But here at ImageFiction I indulge that part of my brain which layers some emotion over some facts to present up, what? My wife Rita has a spectacular garden here in the city. From early spring to late fall there are dots of joy like this guy who's stretching awake in his sunrise shower. Now my organic photographer buddies believe that beauty, harmony, and energy are the natural subjects of what we're supposed to do. They insist that the final print should mimic nature to the degree that the viewer BELIEVES!. That the viewer accepts the image as true-to-some-original.
As you can see, I'm not down with that. Here's what I either saw over coffee last week, or what I wanted to see. As a journalist I'm not allowed to write about what I wanted to see, hear, smell, touch... But this is why this place is called ImageFiction. Get it?