Quie-TED

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Son, Father and Crabs

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My friend owns the finest seafood store in Lancaster. I learned crab picking at the kitchen table with my dad. He'd drink beer, I had soda. And at six, seven, or eight years old I'd watch and learned how to break the shells and knife out the meat and listen to dad tell me stories about his week, the Phillies, about his his friends, his life - and through wide wide wide eyes, it'd be so great. A boy and his daddy together on a summer night - eating crabs, talking, laughing, loving.

Now to cut their salty seasoning I drink the beer. And for moments I'm a kid and imagine the PHillies on the radio and it's summer in the city, with my daddy at that tiny breakfast table all aspread with newspapers. And that's why I saw Tim and his son sorting crabs at their seafood shop today through the hazy multi-colored lenses of a summer ritual.

Culture passes from dad to boy.

My Fall Show... HULP!

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Spoke with the exec-director of the Lancaster Historic Preservation Trust today. He confirmed the specifics for my September 7th show (see details in the column on the right). It's flattering to be asked - but now the real work begins. I suspect that I could easily show a couple of a dozen prints. I just checked my records and I have about sixty prints available - many, if not most - on topic. I'm also thinking (not too seriously) about getting one huge blow-up made, perhaps as large as 50" X 36" but that's an area where I could use some advise. Anybody got any? Last year I saw a similar print on canvas sell for a bundle of money at a local gallery. It was a Lancaster City image. And I thought... Hmmmmm.... I can do that. Now the question is, should I? Hmmmmm....

I'm also wondering which of my prints to exhibit. I know that it will be best to limit this show - so I thought I'd choose exclusively from my Lancaster City images.... hence the name of the show on the ad above. Incidentally the ad will appear in my own magazines in August. I think a half page should do it. Plus I'll attach it to an email blast, along with PR releases to all the area media. But which of my Lancaster City prints to show??? There are a bunch here on this site, and clicking on the keywords "Lancaster City" below will distill them out. If anyone wants to point me toward a favorite which might make a particularly good impression (just let me know the date - OK?).

First Fridays are a big deal here in Lancaster along our Prince Street gallery row. Thousands of people will show up on a nice evening. And the first Friday in September... following Labor Day... that should be a monster. The Historic Preservation Trust mansion is right in the middle of the action - so I hope that the expected foot traffic will be useful.

Now, a word about selling. The Trust will allow me to sell my prints at the show. Of course I shall give them a percentage as a donation. But I don't sell my work as a rule, although I'm tempted to see if I can subsidize my hobby a tad at this event. But that will mean doing a price list... which will mean numbering everything and cross referencing it.... sigh.

Which brings me to another point. I frequently donate prints to distinguished non-profit organizations where they are auctioned. I originally got them framed as part of my donation, but learned that the buyer, after paying a good amount of money, usually wanted to have her own matting/framing done to match her decorating needs. And that meant throwing away the frames. So since then I've simply bought very inexpensive 16" X 20" frames in bulk which have virtually invisible black plastic borders that clamp a piece of glass against the print. They're very simple to use and bring a uniform look to my prints on 13" X 19" archival paper. I've got about thirty of them in a closet here and thought I'd use them to show the prints.

Suggestions?

Last point... a friend recently returned from Italy and used the Apple service to compile a very attractive book of his Italian images. He's urging me to do the same thing for my Lancaster City images - each coded with a number, so that it can be displayed at the show along with a price and order list. Hmmmmm....

As you can imagine though... all of this will devour my time... and crack my piggy bank. Hmmmmm.....

Suggestions?

Greist Building

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Tired tonight. See the time stamp on last night's post? And as usual I was up around 6-am today. Sooner or later the candle starts to flicker. I've got a sleepy buzz on that's taken my IQ down about 15 points. Nice thing is that it's mellow down here. Most of the things that fire contention don't bother me much in the hammock of almost-a-sleep. I'm going to post this thing, let Rocco-The-Dog out, get his good-night goodies - and hit the snore boards.

I guess it was my semi stupor which attracted me to this image from the Lancaster's town square. That's our only, um, sky scraper. They've not allowed anyone to think that big since. Like me tonight, the image's colors are still bright in spots, but the closer you get to earth... the more they all become a gentle murk. Hmmmm.... yeah - gentle murk, nice place to go eventually. Don't you feel twilight differently from the rest of the day? I'm told there are places where the day's light goes off abruptly as if it had been switched. That's got to affect the folks there. Not sure they grow up understanding nuance. On the other hand... judging by the political and advertising world - who does?

Good night.

Girl On Bench

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So... in a post visualization frenzy (see last night's post for explanation) I decided to use PP as a visual research laboratory in order to explore pure color while I combined pieces of images from different exposures and subjects. Summer's the time for citrus, so maybe I should rename this... Citrus Girl On Bench?

2007 Award Winner: Ahead Of It

Note: Accepted as one of theworld's finest Transportation Images of 2007 for Canon POTN Book to be published in the Fall of 2008.

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Read something last night about ... now get ready for this... heavy stuff coming... but only for an instant or two.... Are you ready??

In the current edition of Camera Arts, I read about pre and post visualization art in an interview with the legendary Jerry Uelsmann.

Okay... now hold on. It's really simple but when I understood - I had one of those "EUREKA!!! moments. You know, where you take the palm of your hand and slap it against your forehead? Here's the deal... Suppose you see exactly the art you want to create. You conceive of it full blown in your head. And then grab the right lens, position, filter, light, aperture, speed, ISO - the whole magilla. AND SNAP! See you conceived before you executed. Pre-visual. Gottit?

But for many of us, the process is where we shine. We discover so much as we pull back the onion skin and peer inside at the glimmering colors, forms, shapes ... and we begin to release the idea. We watch it come to life after the shutter was snapped. Post processing technology today has released us into an astonishingly magical post visualiztion world. We can diddle about in pure idea. Wheeeeeee!

And I understood... and muttered... "Eu----REEEK---AHHHHHHHH!!!!"

But sometimes the post visualiztion world isn't accessible. It doesn't let us find a treasure no matter how we wriggle it about. And that's sort of what happened to this image. I saw the moment coming down the road as I stood to photograph the farm. And I carefully let the carriage pass through my frame kicking off bursts of images. Knowing that I had a terrific sense of Americana. I had Norman Rockwell dreams all the way home.

But... but... I can't get what I previsualized to pop in the post visual process. No matter what I do, it remains a snapshot. PHAUGH! Okay, it's a nice snapshot. Still, I know I have the power to find more in this image. And yet... Just as some kids eyes are bigger than their stomaches. Some times my pre is bigger than my post... Sigh...

Fondle X Three

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Each year at the Fourth of July picnic, the Ranck Brothers fondle a tree. You know why? Um, neither do I. Hey.... who am I to judge, eh?

A Sense Of Where?

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Where in the world did I grab this image? Where in the world is this image expected to be? This looks more like my friend Andreas Manessinger's work than mine.

It is uncanny how much we owe to our European heritage. I caught this today at around 1PM in searing sunlight on the main street of a hamlet with about 500-700 residents. It's a place in Maryland about two hours south of Lancaster called Chesapeake City. Perhaps you've seen a few shots I took of the village last August that are posted on my webiste under "Dixie"? We were there briefly this afternoon on our way to a Bay town named Rock Hall. I took this one picture of a facade that looked to be of otherwhere. It's nagging at me now.

Where is the other-where that this place should be? Huh? Huh? Huh? Suggestions?

Half A Friendship

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Stu VanOrmer met me years ago by listening to my radio shows. And he was flattering enough to remember when he heard my name at the Ranck’s picnic last week in Strasburg.

Odd thing about what I once did, you try to be honest, genuine and authentic. And if you really succeed – people grow to know you: one way. Whether it’s through reading your writing, seeing you on video, listening to the radio – whatever – a one way friendship is struck. You become trusted by delightful strangers who you rarely meet.

This web has changed that. Now I can throw my stuff onto the virtual byways, and people will respond. Friendships can become two way.

On the Fourth Of July, Steve and I reminisced over times when though we never met - we shared thoughts. And I learned that he is one of America’s finest designers of fine art furniture. And his wife Roberta is an engaging jewelry designer. Don’t believe me? Click here.


And they let me take their picture – as if I’d known them as well as he knew me - which was flattering beyond his ability to understand.

As I processed their portrait I recalled some great artist arguing that the hands were the hardest things to draw. And I realized that Stu’s is the hand of a man who makes precious and very large things out of rare woods. And that’s maybe why, when a hand can reveal so much, that they are so hard to draw.

Even more importantly, I realized as I looked at this image of Stu and Roberta, how thrilled I am that he allowed my ideas into his inventory – all those years ago.

Vicarious

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Got rocked today by a posting at Passion N' Frames. Click here to see it. PNF has cranked the power-art dial beyond 10.

And it left me wondering how to-do-dat? How to take an image from the Fourth Of July picnic I'm working on this week - and ramp up the pep. And I also wondered if you would find the image - accessible? If it would leave you going "Wow!" and "Hmmmmm...." - thinking AND feeling what I enjoyed as this image revealed itself.

Background: A momentary downpour submerged the party for some minutes. At first the children raced with the adults toward the trees, when abruptly one screeched, "KICKBALL!" And everyone under 15 scampered back to the softball diamond - playing again like... like kids on the Fourth of July. And I got a chance to picture their wonderfulness, and feel my legs, arms, and body happy like... like... a cavorting boy in the rain.

Sunset Memory

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Spoke with my buddy Mick Ranck today. He was, um, startled by the portrait quartet I posted on Sunday. I'm glad that some of you are giving me cover on this week's postings. I kind of hope that there's an artistic thread that sews my week of Fourth of July postings together. Heck, I know that this stuff is art, I just hope it's seen as my art. That somewhere here in all of this that You can sense an authentic-voice-of-Ted, a style, a life-view which makes it a tad unique? Which communicates what I think and feel in a way that's got some value. After all, that's what art is about, right?

Which brings me to today's post. I know from Google Diagnostics how many hundreds upon hundreds of visitors come by here each week and that an astonishing large portion are from way beyond our American borders. And I know that you know that we celebrate our independence each year on July 4th. So I wanted to let you visit pieces of The Rancks' annual party. But instead of showing crowds, flags, and grills loaded up ... I find instead I'm showing dogs, girls, and now today... at twilight a boy of summer.

Every country's annual patriotic celebration is at heart wonderfully romantic. And it's about boys, girls, and dogs. Because it's about a legacy. It's about an idea that we are passing off in celebration to our youth. Just as self preservation is the primary direction to a species... so too is it primary to a culture. In celebration and ceremony we communicate group memories. And maybe some are as simple as a handsome boy, with a great big ball, basking on a carpet of grass that's a-sparkle in the dazzle of a memorable sunset. Maybe it's as simple as the hope that the kids will have many more of these feelings that our celebrations are all about. Eh?

Puddled

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Here's beautiful girl standing in a puddle at the Ranck's Fourth of July picnic. She jumped about in the thing until her mom called. And for a moment it occurred to her that she might stop. See! See the thought flit across her face.

But it only happened for this precise moment, and then SPLAAAAASH! SPLAAAAASH! SPLAAAAASH! SPLAAAAASH! SPLAAAAASH! SPLAAAAASH! ...SPLAAAAASH!

This is an authentic moment. The only one where manners, and propriety overcame her. It was an instant when grown-up rules interrupted the child. Didn't last long.

As we mature, those moments lengthen. We pause longer between our puddle leaps. Until we stop splashing around, and call to the child who we see... her feet in the puddle. And it's our turn to inject a crack of adult-ness between - SPLAAAAASH! SPLAAAAASH! SPLAAAAASH! SPLAAAAASH! ...SPLAAAAASH!

Bubba

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As you can see below, I'd not expected to post tonight. But I hate to break a tradition just because of some silly excuse like... THE INTERNET!!! GRUMBLE....

Um, anywayzzzz... Last night I posted an image, actually multiple images, of Bubba's master. If Mick Ranck was host of his annual family Fourth of July picnic to which hundreds are invited in Strasburg, then Bubba is the host dog. Everyone knows him. Has for years. His long time grizzled presence is a sign that something important about the world has been revealed. So... in this week of portraits in the Ranck Fourth of July Gallery rooms, it seems important to include this guy and his personality. Frankly, he was easier to capture in one image than Mick was last night.


NOTE: Below this line -------------- is a rant. It was all I expected to post tonight. I call it...

WITCHCRAFT

"A sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from witchcraft!" Those are the words of sci fi writer Ray Bradbury.

In the past two weeks I have spent almost eleven hours on the phone with either Verizon or with Apple attempting to make my Airport Express/Airport Extreme wireless WiFi network work throughout the house. It operated perfectly for about two years. Then abruptly last week my wife found she could not send email. Nine hours later... after an early misdirection from a Verizon cretin... everything appeared fixed. By everything, the various tinkerings by a parade of telephone technicians resulted in not only the wireless system crashing, but also my hard wired interconnect here in my office.

Then tonight at dinner, my wife said, "I can't get my mail." What I uttered was one, smelly, expletive.

Now three hours later, after Apple again disabling everything and rebuilding it... we are partially working. However, until I trash some of Rita's preference files, and reboot her machine... all will not be stable. Unfortunately she has lost her sys admin password for her machine... and if I trash those preference files we will be polled for that PW upon reboot.

There is a workaround. It involves reloading certain elements of the system for her iMac from the original discs. Okay... except, she has this odd notion that all of this should act like a utility. You know, you set it up, pay your money, and use it from that point on. Like telephones, electricity, water, gas... a utility. How quaint. She expects that it is supposed to just work!!!!

So of course she does not carefully file her sys discs like the rest of us who are geeky enough to understand that ... well this is witchcraft. In order to make this thing operate we need to know exactly how far to leap off of the ground while twisting in the air and spitting...

What all of this means is that I am off to find the sys discs (along with incense,crystals, and an Asian guy with long needles)... then to get the instructions which Apple promised to send to my email account... then to print them out... then to go into Rita's office and follow those instructions to reboot in a manner that allows me to change the password. Which I shall etch into her desk with an X-acto blade.

It also means that there will be no image posted tonight since I have been otherwise occupied. Life should not intrude upon my hobbies. But even worse... neither should the internet. At the moment we seem to be gridlocked on the internet highway. And all I can do is honk. Check back tomorrow... okay?

Thanks for visiting...

Grumble &^&%$$$!!

Ted

Independence

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You know, new ideas occur to me a lot less frequently than practical ones. E-mailers have asked to see more of my portraits, which are among the funnest things to do. So, at his Fourth Of July picnic in Strasburg last Wednesday I portrait-ed my friend Mick Rank. Unfortunatley, I over portrait-ed him... took a bundle... multi-angled him... Had a good time.

And what I got were a number of images which TOGETHER showed more about him than any one capture. So... how to get the idea of Independence day picnic and a sufficient selection of closeups to do justice to his personality? Hmmmmm.... Howzabout a practical compilation... a great big artifact sitting in the center of his own gallery room?

Okay... now how to pull that off? Hmmmm?

Outta Space!

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My images filled up a 500G drive last night. Which abruptly left me with no place to save an image today. So my friend Steve drove us down to the Mac store where I picked up a brand new LaCie 1 Terabyte drive which puts about 1.75 T totally on line now to deposit stuff. I recall when I bought the external 500 G LaCie that filling it seemed unimaginable. But big graphic files, some diddling with video podcats (I wonder if they can be attached to this blog... anyone know?), and my Mac-Tunes library have elbowed away the free space. Worse yet, there just wasn't enough space to backup either of those folders. I looked at the 2T LaCie, but the consumer reviews on both the Apple website and at Amazon were so lousy that I've decided to go with just an additional terabyte until it's time to move on up to a new Mac Pro at around Christmas.

Now, with a long ... long ... backup in progress - it's just not possible to produce the image I'd hoped for today. So, I peered about four years back into my archives to find Grant St. Puddle. I present this image as a failure. Yep... there was a long ago forgotten goal for this image, however I did it at a time when I was unable to exercise any useful discipline. So each time it appeared finished, there came to mind one additional design thingee that could be tried. Probably there are some ten hours of time in this thing... perhaps a lot more. I recall that it kept calling me back... and back. I don't think it ever snuck out of its original folder - until finally it seemed useful today (given that I can't actually do something new) to flash the mess around.

Here's an example of what not to do. And how not to do it. Think of it as a companion piece to yesterday's tacky art. Okay, perhaps it was a learning experience, allowing me as it did to try out dozens of effects.

Anyone who wants to download and diddle with it is welcome. Who knows, perhaps you can find the one silver bullet which will actually turn this into art? Enjoy... Tomorrow with storage back on line, I'll stop with the mistakes, satires, and dreck.

Tacky?

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Recently a magazine needed to illustrate a story on "Tacky Motel Art". So of course, the editor turned to me. The article was about that sort of painting you find in the "Starving Artist Sales" which bloom all around the United States. At these things you poke through hundreds and hundreds of "real art" painted by "real artists" done in "genuine paint" on "real canvas". Frankly I don't know where they do get the - mosty unsigned - stuff they sell for $19.98 - about a third of the price of the frames they peddle.

BTW... have you noticed that the real money in the art biz is in framing? But I digress

Anywayzzz.... I took a picture of Rita's flowers in the back yard. I brought the image up in PhotoShop, grabbed the smudge tool and with different brushes swirled the colors around for a couple of minutes and... WHEEEEEEE! Here's what I filed, and what they printed.

So, wuddaya think? Will it sell at a "Starving Artists Sale"?

Palette, Texture, Shape & Form

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Here's a background. There's really no subject, just another window... or set of windows - this time shuttered. I'm not certain what to think about images that are this static. And I do want to think about an image. Still, this grouping is just so perfectly executed by the artists who first imagined it, and the craftspeople who executed it.

So here... I've plagiarized it.

Or no... since the caption tells you the place - I suppose this is more a quote than a steal. And maybe it tells you something about how a current culture has dealt with the challenge of windows. Yet... you will note that they are not windows. Those shutters don't open, nor do they admit light or air. So even though they are dug through the walls - they're essentially decorative exterior objects which have been walled over on the inside. In a world where form follows function - these guys are odd. See, they have only an aesthetic function, yet they mimic a form. Viewers expect windows to decorate a building, so here form follows expectation.

Interesting idea... which seems to also fuel women's fashions. Or... does it?

Independence Day Beyond Paradise

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It's Independence Day in America.

On the Fourth of July some of us become patriots. Others of us visit towns like Paradise in Lancaster County's southern end where prosperous farms dapple the rolling hills of the richest non-irrigated soil on earth. Yet on Independence Day memories intrude even upon this tranquility. We're struck with the moment in history where we live, and the rights to this peace we enjoy here just beyond Paradise.

For an instant in the golden twilight... We think of how fragile are those rights we claim: how easily they've cracked in other places and other times. We can almost see horrific glows scratch at the darkening sky of this gentle day. And for the instant... perhaps even the most jaded among us become patriots as well?

Picturing Intangibles

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It’s been said that words and images mix like Paris and Elizabeth (That’s Hilton and Tudor of course). Oddly much of our best writing is obsessed with the visible – in fact our language is at heart metaphorical, words that were imagined from visible objects and things. Meantime the best image making has become immersed in the sensual, philosophical or even the spiritual.

Take this attempt to illustrate an idea about a feeling which I don’t think words could convey. Isn’t it odd that words will describe specifically but whether fiction or real – the image exists on a plane that is representational. Hmmmm…. Yet conventional wisdom concludes that pictures show objects, and words describe emotions. Go figger.

These horses grazing the lush fields of a prosperous Amish farm are the result of envy. Have you visited… pnf’s photographic blog? If not click here. Her special talent for capturing animals makes the process appear so simple. And that drove me down to the southern end of Lancaster County on Sunday evening to grab some snaps of horses in the sweet twilight. I did, only to discover how challenging these beasties are. First off, they are BIG SUCKERS! And they are very horizontal. To someone used to his animals standing on two legs for vertical framing, well It’s really hard to… no… it was impossible for me to come away with thin, tall images of any use.

So here is one of my first horse ideas. Now, go visit pnf… and then lemme know… is this even worth trying again? Or do we just abdicate this field to the master… um… mistress of the horse?

Society's End

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It seemed to me that a society ended at the edge of that strictly controlled brick circle and something else happened in the darkness at the trail's end. And I wondered if anyone dared to escape a perfectly planned life on that rich crescent to a future down the uncertain path?

Yeah... what if the future called from somewhere behind that foliage... and she went to seek it. Who did she leave in anguish on that disciplined swirl of perfectly laid bricks? Dear friends? Children? Parents? Family? Lovers? Who stood there peering down the pathway to... to...

All of this occurred to me Saturday along the Brandywine - yards away from yesterday's image.

My imagination is quite rich...

Wish I were....

June Was Bustin' Out...

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Here in Pennsylvania, seasons nourish our projects. Regardless of the granular idea or feeling that rustles about in our creative cranial places, it’s the seasons which manipulate the possibilities we face in expressing ourselves. Now I know many visitors to ImageFiction come from places without climate swings. And others live in spots where the oscillations are either small or quite rapid.

Here in South Eastern Pennsylvania I enjoy a full measure of seasonal performances. And regardless of my artistic intention to impose an inspiration upon nature – more often I’m its servant, my hormonal dance gliding to its rhythms and possibilities: How frequently seasons are the dog and my whims its tail.

Yesterday I was beside the Brandywine Creek, which meanders through Chester County just East of me here in Lancaster. It was the sort of afternoon, which would dissolve if you thought about it too much. The sort of Saturday in which June had produced a final magnificent blossom – as if to say with a smirk, “Okay July, top this one, I dare you.” That’s the sort of taunt that sets an artist’s agenda. Facing the full bloom of a boasting month, my charge is to remember it at you. The question’s so simple: can you feel summer on The Brandywine Creek?

Hear Stephen Foster?

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Evocative Southern images have an air of being made from pictures of the past. The continuity between then and now gets firmer the farther you meander below the Mason-Dixon Line.

Once a photographic image maker had to work within the laws of nature and gear. Back then explaining the way a mid-day-lit pre-bellum façade set off a bursting southern palm was extraordinarily challenging – maybe impossible. Either highlights got burnt to a crisp, or shadows were harder to penetrate that Stephen Hawkings’ latest book.

Now we can present the authentic place in a way that transcends the tyranny of gear and nature. Now we can allow facts to bleed together in ways that recreate the reality of a moment that never was .

Here’s tack sharp texture, saturated by a gentle palette which describes a sense of place. You know that should I pan down, you’ll see a white-suited gentleman tipping his Panama hat to skirted lady dressed to go shopping. Or at least you’ll not be surprised to watch them do their dance along Bay Street’s storefronts in Beaufort, South Carolina.

From this image you’ll agree with the place. But does it tell the time? Which is, after all, my point.

Spanish Moss

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Meaning-making has become a collective thing. Truth is consensus. Problem is that we now live in a world of different whirls of consensuses... Um, izzat a word?

Old fashioned - I like my truths when they come with some wrinkles and jowls. I want them tested over more than the latest news cycle. I want them dressed nicer than any given rap or rock group. And it's good when they have the patina of endurance.

There's a feeling of comfort in peering at a grand old truth nestled among bundles of swaying moss - dangling from ancient oaks. Wisdom is not a monopoly of the elderly. But cautious analysis, is frequently found in mature places. And perhaps that's where we get our understanding of elegance?

Describing It

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We can't feel, hear, or even see everything that is. We write musical notes so that melodies can be molded. Imagine managing time without a calendar or a watch. Then there are sometimes things we can feel and yet not represent. Someone once pointed out that if we don't have a name for something... well it doesn't exist. Don't believe it? How about cyberspace? As far as our minds were concerned, was there such a thing until it was described and named? The name actually made it a thing.

So I walked around Middlebury to watch the way a Saturday morning sunrise described this place I'd never before visited. And I rounded a corner and abruptly there was this. I wanted to capture the way it felt in the sweet dewey light of dawn. But tonight as I pulled up that memory from the captures my camera gave me... I found that there were a magical quality that went beyond what the lens had caught. My camera, sharp as it is failed to replicate the aura of those moments.

But now - I've teased something more from the vista ... like a watch or a musical score... I can now better feel something that was. Can you see it? Huh? Huh? Can you see an emotion? Has my excursion beyond the photo described it to you? Is it real now?

Naked Image

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So a guy, calls himself, "Lurker", sends me an email. And he asks, "Okay Ted, so I see that you need to pimp up your images in PP (um, that's Post Production techniques, for those of you new to the jargon). In fact, you seem addicted. Fine. That's what you do and you do it really good. But, what do your naked images look like? Take that Middlebury, Vermont series. Can you show us a virtually untouched image... or does everything you take need assistance? I dare you. Double dare you. Show us even one naked!"

Whoa... a double dare! I mean what self respecting boy ever welched out on a double dare? Um... alright... except for adjusting the basic values in this one... and of course cropping it for composition... And adding just one teeny touch. How'z this? Huh? Huh? Huh?

Can I go naked, or what?

Dilution

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Dick Cavett once mused on his TV talk show, "It might be said that the United States is the first known case of a civilization developing through disintegration."

Do you find you get some great thinking done in the morning shower? I guess the warmer blood steams up the dendrites to a hotter sparkle, eh? So this morning that Cavett quote got retrieved from some cranial storage spot and tumbled around with all the stuff that's going on in Western nations regarding immigration. Now... not to get into a political debate, or even a discussion... it occurred to me that civilization is a pretty heavy word. But how'ze about culture? I wonder if it isn't driven by dilution as it mixes with new paradigms? Huh? Huh? Or izzat so obvious (even without pulling Hegel off the shelf) that it's too shallow to dignify?

Anywayzzzzz.... There's a big gap between tumbling mixtures of cultures and the concept of civilization, no? Barbarism is just as likely, right? Or ... or... a gallup with the Four Horsemen Of The Apocalypse. I wonder how many cultural mixes it takes to finally get a civilization? And how many cultural dilutions it takes until people realize that no one recalls how to fix the potholes in the Appian Way?

1st Congo

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A pity, but some things have to be pictured - the visitor lacks a choice. Middlebury, Vt. is built all around its First Congregational Church which sits atop the highest hill in town. And they've built this atop that. Unfortunately I had only six hours in the area to take pictures, and no research. So from sunrise to about 1:30 in the afternoon, I drove, walked and let the hamlet's major features attract my camera's lenses. But unless you rode well out of Middlebury, the shadow of the First Congo's magnificent steeple drew down.

As many of you recall, I have often photographed the steeples of Lancaster, which meant that a novel approach to Middlebury's greatest tower was hard, particularly with such little time. So... here's the obligatory snapshot of their most prominent feature. I'd really like some suggestions. This is a conventional, "Wow!" image, but it just doesn't make me wonder. Doesn't appear to be a metaphor for anything larger. It's merely pretty.

Is that enough for anything beyond a calendar or postcard? Let me know, huh?

Men Communicate

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Men know everything about talking in vision. There are looks we never practice, and of course unless facing a mirror, we never even see.

Joe kissed her, passed Jessica to stand before the altar, put out his hand to Greg and without uttering a word... said this.

Women

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Albert Camus applied two tests simultaneously to his own language: the test of expressiveness, and the test of truth to life.

I like those hurdles. Take away either and your left merely with the power to bore.

Mid Day Light

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The line read...

"The only way she had

Not to be amazed was to be dead."

And it recalled last Saturday

Nearby Middlebury, Vt.

And how its memory

Resolved a poem.

Kiss!

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This was a problem. The couple stood shaded just inside of the sunny-side end of a tent with the full afternoon glare behind them upon the mountains, fields and minister. That demanded a small aperture, which in turn offered up great gobs of tack sharp detail in the searingly lit background. Of course I was stuck in my seat and lacked a fill flash. So, how to make lemonade from the dark-side of the bride and groom with extra busy detail filling in behind?

Here's my attempt at capturing the, "You May Kiss The Bride" moment. Thanks to JSimonian from the Canon Digital Forums who prodded me to remove some distracting artifacts left by the minister, I was able to distill out this excessively romantic image. So... now - Izzit good for you?

Burble In The Air

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There are still trails that meander through woods down to fishing holes at sunrise.

Middlebury, Vermont exudes a preposterous credibility. It's a place where you expect Norman Rockwell to scurry out from behind a bush to fidget a leaf or a twig just so. It's the land that tacky forgot. Perhaps it's the ice which preserves it through so many of the months from spoiling?

Dunno, but even in the blue shift of first light the hard scrabble brush seems romantically nostalgic. And the stark grit of big city snarl feels as far away as... it is.

Blooming Analysis

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Told you that we visited Middlebury, VT this past weekend for a wedding. Do any of you recall the last Bob Newhart Show? The Larry, Darrel, and Darrel one where they kept the "Harmony Inn"? Well, the wedding reception was held there - in the place where the exterior shots were taken for that Newhart show. As I ambled the garden out back I recalled a picture of a magnolia I'd taken a week before in Savannah, Georgia - over a thousand miles to the south. Perhaps you'll recall - or you can click here to review it.


Well anyway... as I looked at the fat peonies which grow all over this part of Vermont, I realized how dramatically different, yet similar the two places are. Each at this time of year sports fat fleshy flowers. But somehow in Middlebury, where there's ice and snow from November through early April, the blooms seemed even more magical. Plus there was the wedding thing going on in the background, the music, the party... And I began to wonder how to communicate all of this - the wildly different sense of place captured in the uniqueness of their blooms. Hmmmmm....

A Question About Jessica

<-Click here • Jessica & Greg were married in Middlebury, Vermont last Saturday. Jessica was an astonishingly elegant bride. I was lurking around with my camera during the event, trying not to get underfoot of the accomplished and hard working professional who was the official documenter. I've known Jess since she was maybe 12 or 13. That's when we became friends. Like her slightly older sister julia - these two had an intelligence which let them pierce their way into mature conversations virtually as equals at an early age. They were, and remain, bright, charming - and as you can see from this image, strikingly beautiful. However...


I lacked a high powered strobe, a reflector and all the rest of those things which let photographers capture a stunning woman appropriately. So, without the gear to do pre-processing, I'm forced to make up for the snaphot quality of my shots in post processing. Now... here's the question. While both of these images retain the production values of snapshots... Which captures Jess better? Why? Hulp...

Component

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A magnolia in summer. Dixie, eh?

Might not be here tomorrow. See my message from yesterday.

Once-Upon-A-Time Window

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It was a window that once looked out upon river boat dandies and dock tarts. Once it rattled from the steamy squeals of paddle wheelers' horns. Then pigeons glided just yards to the gaudy decks of great flat stern wheelers mounded with King Cotton hauled from this place to exotic ports and deep pockets packed with gold.

It was a window that watched once-upon-a-time - disappear.

BTW: I am off on some business to New England for a couple of days. May be away from WWW connection. We shall see if I can post between now and Sunday. If not... and you're new... enjoy last September & October's postings, K? I'd enjoy comments on those long lost images.

Happy Flag Day...

What We Do

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"We are not here to do what has already been done." - Robert Henri, The Spirit Of Art P.12

I believe that each color, each shape, each pixel must be an exact record of what I conceived it to be at the moment I put it there. This is not an accurate reproduction of a place, it is an authentic rendering of an idea, feeling and sense of this place.

And that is all it is a record of.

Izzit Worth Photographing?

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You know that I don't want to imitate nature, but I still want to find a formal unity in my images. Okay, so here's a distinct shape, a compact form and smooth colors. It's not so much the real-life feelings I'm trying to frame within my margins, nor a slavish reproduction of what's in front of my lens, nope. What I'm after is my own arrangement of formal classical elements. Here's the test... does the image communicate an authentic feeling, mood, presence? Do you sense a message?

Yeah... that's it. See there's a risk of caricature when you deal with an image like this which has been contrived for cameras. Is there any fresh way to render a novel idea of a structure which was constructed to decorate calendars? This tower is a stage set. It's perfect from evey angle. Tell me, is that even worth rendering? is there any way that the final idea can be mine in any way?

Let me know, huh?

Details

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Our good fortune was definitely NOT Beaufort's, or that of the city's owners during the Great War Between The States. Seems that the Yankees used their superior naval power to occupy this port city early on during the tempest. The fleeing occupants left their homes for the solders to seize. Consequently all of these buildings were preserved from the burnings which General Sherman routinely ordered throughout this region thus allowing us to get a real sense of the pre-bellum splendor of a planters' town.

Here the photographic details are really not f stops or shutter speeds. Rather you should know: Temperature 97 degrees, Humidity 87% and virtually no breeze at around noon. Recall when these structures were occupied by their sizable families in the early 19th century - air conditioning meant closing the shutters and pulling the drapes against the searing summer sun.

High Noon In Beaufort, SC

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Summer in the south sears. The light is brilliant as Democrats imagine their Presidents to be.

Noon-time shine is the stuff that chases photographers indoors. There's just no way a camera can capture details in highlights and shadows, right? Short of tripods, bracketing, and HDR tedium in post processing... well best not try to capture scenics between 11 am and maybe 4:30 p.

Problem is we were in Beaufort, SC at noon. And we had about two hours to try to get a sense of this old-South county seat that was founded in 1711. This was the heart of King Cotton until the Yankees occupied the area during the Civil War. Oh it made some comeback afterward, but the Boll Weevil ended that a few decades later. The place is reblooming now and fixing up places that haven't had major remods since the 1920s.

So, how to capture the 1920s ambiance while placing Beaufort squarely in Dixie? I decided that runny water colors were just exactly right. They gave me the chance to block some of the highs, while filling up the shadows. Or at least I imagine the effect does. Whacha think?

BTW, if you saw the movie Forrest Gump, and recall Gump being interviewed for TV just after he crossed the Mississippi River bridge - well this is a key place. It's where they sat the cameras for that shot. Immediately to my left as I took this picture is a bridge over the Beaufort River. Since they shot many of the location shots here in Beaufort, they saw no need to travel to the Midwest to get one picture. So for the movie, they changed the sign over this bridge to read "Mississippi River". Hollywood magic!

Cliche

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It is harder to draw information from words than from pictures. Clichés crack the code. They support you in turning data into information… and information into meaning. A cliché grabs from all those dark storage sites of memory and melds them together into a useful pattern.

If you visit the Sea Pines Plantation on Hilton Head Island, you’ll hear of this structure. It was created to resemble a lighthouse as a backdrop to the 18th hole of a golf course - Harbour Town Links - which attracts the PGA. And the PGA attracts TV networks. Which want harbors to look like harbors. They want a picture which tells the audience what this place is. It needs to be a shot that snaps from data to information in a blink.

So this structure’s the highest and most recognizable on Hilton Head Island. It also lets me, in one image, cut right to seaport, summer, sunrise, and for those with the right memory pockets… Hilton Head, South Carolina.

How could I not capture this cliché?

Retro Vrs. History

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Age is the mother of nostalgia, while disruption is the father of history. So? What happens when these two hook up for a night of passion? That’s what I was out to uncover in Savannah – a city where retro and history have formed a cosy rapport. To a lot of Boomers, retro is indistinguishable from history.

I wonder when the latter sucks up the former?

I’ve noticed that the history taught in our K-12 years is overwhelmingly about political figures (Quick: name the guy who financed Henry Ford’s first factory. See what I mean?). But in reality culture trumps everything. Culture rules. Culture rocks. Paris Hilton went to jail because of culture. Congress failed to pass an immigration bill because of culture. It is culture at any given moment which packs the wallop.

I think the difference between retro and history is culture. People begin to notice that the culture that weaned them barely exists. Which sparks nostalgia and creates a retro market. See how that’s working in Savannah? Huh? Huh?

Or have I got this all wrong? Comments?

Award Winner 2007: Mr. Saxovannah

Note: Accepted as one of theworld's finest Performing Arts Images of 2007 for Canon POTN Book to be published in the Fall of 2008.

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Often it seems the guy was right who noticed that we are merely another brand, jostling for attention on a crowded shelf. Which inevitably drives some clever marketers to crank the flamboyant dial way up - which I guess also explains the market for Wunder-Bras and warmly appealing bearded guys in orange who saxophone a haunting shriek of Amazing Grace.

Hey… it’s a plan. Right?

Energy Tree

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The renowned photographic teacher Craig Tanner in a recent podcast mused, "We are drawn toward the highest energy." Hmmmm.... Or maybe some draw the highest energy within their frames? Are all ideas energy? Is the vice versa? Let me try that differently. Are good ideas disruptive? And is that what generates energy?

Much of what draws the serious lens is upsetting to the status quo. Which is the role of innovation, right? As I do the galleries here in Hilton Head and Savannah - I see a tide of stereotypical art. An hour ago I saw a mass of excellently rendered shots of the Savannah mansions for sale at a shop. The photographer captured wonderful palettes, warm lighting, tack sharp detail... and yet this high craft produced mind numbing goo. It's as if he froze the scenes in mirrors - and simply reversed them. I could sense no part of the guy's mind in the interpretations.

Do you recall garage bands that sounded just like pop-hits? They weren't artists, they were impersonators - or live recording/playback rip-off-ers. Most photographers are not artists... their images never pass through a bath of energy. They are visual stenographers.

I agree that Craig Tanner's pictures, at least as posted at Light Diary seem drawn to the highest energy. But I don't agree that most people's photographs capture high… or even any energy. They are not art, they are, even when originals, reproductions – copies of a moment.

Yesterday I confronted something foreign to me. This tree must be so commonplace to denizens of the deep south. So, how to show them, as well as people like me, that there is something unusual about this tall guy? So how to tap the energy here and make it spark out at you. How to make it shimmy and snake upward toward a commonplace sky?

So here’s my way of sucking the highest energy out of someone else’s humdrum. Does it work?

Jungle

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Bluffton is a tiny town in the southeast of South Carolina. Residents are determined to turn it into an artsy/antique stop for upscale traffic flowing from Hilton Head to Savannah, GA.

Civilization, like tree rings, happens in layers. So does jungle. Oddly they both build over the present. We dig down under most cities and we find the debris of those who came there before us. Dig down farther though, and we find jungle. Jungle was here before us… and in many spots on earth… it came after us.

Look at how the builders of this house - once a home - took care. Oddly, the colors have survived the materials they packaged.

Not far from this place Bluffton people are remodeling and building anew. A block away they are constructing an entire main street soon to be filled with shops with facades that will capture a retro charm of the 1920s and 30s.

But here at this crumbling place soon a decision will be made, either by developers or by jungle. One thing though: in the Low Country so close to the coastal swamps, developer decisions will only - for a geological moment - distract the jungle.

FWOOOSH!

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The photographers I envy can pour whole buckets of meaning into each image.

See, we’re vacationing in Dixie. Tropical Storm Barry came north as we drove south. Imagine: you’re riding along and a forest-fire-fighting tanker plane dumps overhead. “FWOOSH!” And imagine that it doesn’t stop. “FUH-WOOOOSH! FWOOSH! FWOOSH! FWOOSH! FWOOSH! FWOOSH! FWOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH!……………..”

Now swirl in tractor trailers sporting mud flaps which cover their spray less effectively than Britney Spears' skirts cover crotch. Sheeesh! Hours of that make you long to curl fetal.

You know how I felt when we got here? Here... Look at this image.... THAT'S how I felt when we got here. Yeah… Sometimes it’s insufficient to say, “Hey! It rained.”

Pepsi Tanks

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Pity how much detail is lost in this image when it was compressed for the web. The sky is super detailed at 19X13". And Emporia can use every bit of detail it can get. It's a place you can spend a couple of weeks in - overnight.
What I liked were the world class sized tanks of Pepsi. Guess you gotta' store it somewhere for all of those soda fountains, eh?
There are those who say that the sweet light of morning can make anything look compelling... enticing... inviting. Dunno about that. Considering Emporia at sunrise, you decide. You want to visit?

Richmond Birds

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Just off of Shockoe Slip in Richmond, VA there's a rehabed wharehouse filled with a store called, These Four Walls. It's strewn with guys like these. As charming as they are I wonder where in China they're made? There are lots of cool shops across America filled full with charming Oriental clutter. Why are empty spaces an insult to women? Okay... sounds sexist, but it's, like, true - right? Clear coffee table? Vacant room corner? Bare ledge? Every woman I know will feel drawn to plop down silk flowers, another lamp, a decorative book, some shells, or a piece of mass produced sculpture like this.

Now I don't find that offensive or even annoying. Nope, once I see it... hey... I like it well enough. But an open space just doesn't tractor beam me to scour shops like These Four Walls. What feminine instinct creates this lucrative Chinese market? Ideas anyone?

Emporia, Virginia

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Surprise! Found a wireless service in an Emporia room.

We drove for hours due south. Stopped here, just eight miles before the North Carolina border. Emporia seems to be a place where people stop between. It's a muddle of motels, franchise food, and gas stations. It's rumored to be one of those vicious speed traps which pepper rural America in places between places. On our way tomorrow, we'll drive carefully out of Emporia to I-95, about a rock's toss from this room here between.