Winterlude Five. Bare Trees.

Bare Trees.

Winterlude. Again. As we head towards spring in the swamps, we have a weather pattern that is up and down. Cold. Wet. Warm. Humid. Cold. Rinse. Repeat. Ten times.

I made this picture a few days ago. I was bragging about our warm spring like days. Then. This.

Luckily, I really like this picture. It’s clean. Minimalistic. Monochromatic. You could do a lot with it if you wanted it to be a base for some layering.

I put a frame around the picture. Last time that I did that, it was because I felt like it. Not this time. I needed to hold the picture within something lest it blend into the white background.

Speaking of backgrounds, head over to to see my new website. The background is black. I think that it looks really good. I finished the architecture yesterday. That means all the underlying work, the things you don’t see, is done. I just need to add more pictures and write the “About Ray” section.

You can even buy pictures. Not many. Not yet. I’m still building that collection.

I’m pretty sure that, unlike some of my former websites, this one will be fairly active.  It won’t just be a portfolio site. It has a blog component. It has the above mentioned sales section. And, an ever-growing collection of my work.

Oh. There are two Storytellers. One says “Storyteller on Laskowitzpictures.” That’s the blog attached to the website. The other Storyteller leads you right back here. How cool is that?

I said something in a similar vein a while back, but as I work through my archives in order to build this website, I am stunned by the volume of work. It goes on and on. I’m my own hardest critic. Looking at my work in the space in between, I am amazed by the quality. I should have known. My publisher signed me to all those contracts on strength of individual portfolios tailored to each proposal.  Still…

That may explain a bit of my reluctance to go back out in the street to photograph events in big crowds. I started photographing my projects almost from the day we returned from the desert. Eight years ago. I’m probably a little toasty. A little burnt. I know myself. Even in physical pain I can usually rally and play the ninth inning. The fourth quarter. Score the winning run or touchdown. It’s not that I can’t. It’s that I don’t really want to do that.

As far as my six book projects go, that’s different. I won’t be working in crowds. I won’t be shooting a version of the same old thing. The subject matter is interesting. My way of working is more studied.

Page 43. It’s an old David Crosby song. You know, Crosby, Stills and Nash. That David Crosby. One line touched me this morning. “Look around. Have a sip of it. Or, else you’ll find it’s passed you by.”

As I’ve worked through my learning process I’ve been grimacing a bit. About my past. Yeah, the past is the past. Can’t go back. Not that I’d want to. But, you can learn from it. The past that makes me frown is about blown chances, or, not going far enough. Not working hard enough at times when it was laid out in front of me.

Here’s what I’ve learned.

I think I’m old at 65. Much of that comes from my semi-broken parts. But, that’s young when it comes to artists. That’s how I have started thinking. Young. Young. Experienced. Young, Wise, Young. Thanks Michelle, “MamaMick,” on her blog pages, for pushing me into it. Good journey so far.