All posts filed under: Colorful

On a Sunday


” If my words did glow with the glow of sunshine. And my tunes were played on the harp unstrung, Would you hear my voice come through the music? Would you hold it near as it were your own? It’s a hand-me-down, the thoughts are broken, Perhaps they’re better left unsung. I don’t know, don’t really care. Let there be songs to fill the air. Ripple in still water. When there is no pebble tossed, Nor wind to blow. Reach out your hand if your cup be empty, If your cup is full may it be again, Let it be known there is a fountain, That was not made by the hands of men. There is a road, no simple highway, Between the dawn and the dark of night, And if you go no one may follow, That path is for your steps alone. Ripple in still water. When there is no pebble tossed. Nor wind to blow. You, who choose to lead, must follow. But if you fall you fall alone. If you should stand …

When Storms Pass


Summer storms. It’s hot, hot, hot. Everywhere. Not just in New Orleans. Not just in the United States. All over Europe. All over Asia. Say what you will, but the climate is changing. I don’t remember this kind of hot weather, even in summer. Not like this. I asked, a while back, where to go for some cool weather. Good luck with that. I read that even Greenland is having a heat wave. I read a group on Facebook called, “Ain’t Der No Mo’.” Someone was complaining that in the old days the weather people would just call a rain storm, falling rain. Now, they call them what they are. Storms. My Facebook page was littered with pictures of broken trees. Broken limbs. In some states tornadoes touched down. Cars were twisted, bent and stacked on top of one another. A tourist boat was sunk in Branson, Missouri. At least 11 people died. Yeah. These are storms. Not some gentle falling rain. In the Southeast, we are used to this stuff. Supposedly. It is, after …

Working


Something a little different. For me. More along the lines of what I actually do for money. But, this time it was luck. I went to visit with a friend, parked the car, let the dog walk over me to jump out, looked up and saw this scene. Wowie Zowie. I made a lot of frames of the action. I worked it in the way that I normally would if there was cash on the barrelhead. Funny thing. Once I slipped into that mode, time flew, I was focused (no pun intended), and I could see. Really see. Then. As quickly as I slipped into that mode, I was done. I slipped out of the mode. When I returned to the studio, I didn’t look at the pictures until I finally couldn’t stand not looking at them. I found “the picture.” I worked on it. I worked on a couple of versions of it. The way that I usually do. Until I was finished. That’s what you are seeing here. All the external noise? I …

If Only


Art harder. That’s about all I could do. Especially, since art is what I do. I’m pretty sure that I know what you are expecting. An attack on the orange haired fool who lives in The White House. The one who committed treason according to its very definition, live from Helsinki. Nope. All the words that could be written, were written. All the things that could be said, were said. All I could ever add is to tell you that my heart is broken. Many things that I’ve done in the past don’t matter now. I did what I always do. I worked. I made this picture a few days ago. It’s a Mardi Gras wreath hung on a neighbor’s door. Seeing one at this time of year is like seeing a Christmas tree in a window in May. You know. It’s like, “WTH?” So I made the picture. I had to. Then, I tinkered. I played. I experimented. I let my mind stay open and focused. Let is the key word. It was real …

Working


The question remains. How? The answer is always the same. Study. Practice. Study. Practice. Study. Practice. That’s how you learn and improve no matter what it is that you do.  That’s how you get good, or even great, at anything. Here’s a story. When I was a young man, I was a semi-gamer. I wasn’t playing computer games at the level that real gamers do, but that’s how I spent my down time. Photoshop was a new tool back then. I decided that it was the tool of the future.  I gave up gaming and filled my down time studying and practicing post production. Not only did I learn what has become essential software for photographers, designers and other visual creatives, but I learned what I didn’t want to do. It brought clarity to the way that I work. Study. Practice. Study. Practice. Study. Practice. The picture. Well now. I was out on a walk. I passed by a pick up truck. There were leaves in the bed of the truck. I saw them. I …

Mostly Red


On a late afternoon walk. I saw the backlight on this group of leaves and I couldn’t resist. Could you? Yes. It took some work in post production to help it be the picture that I saw in my mind’s eye. But, it was straight, normal work. I darkened the over all image, added contrast and leaf detail. That was it. Nothing that couldn’t be done in an old school wet darkroom. I suppose this brings me to seeing a scene and understanding it for what it could be. I suppose that it’s a kind of expanded thinking. There are a couple of blogs that I read whenever they are posted. These bloggers travel to some great locations. I want to write in the comments section, why don’t you just stop and hang out for a bit and wait until the light is low and magical? It seems that they have deadlines to keep. On their vacation. I understand the sometimes need to get from point A to point B, but if you claim photography …

Deep and Dark


Take your time. Live in the moment. Be present. All ways of saying the same thing. Or, about the same thing. For the past few days I’ve been busy. Very busy. But, I’ve taken an old Chinese proverb to heart. “Walk slower, go farther.” I’ve gotten more done in the past few days than I do during some weeks. I’ve had to slow down time. Time shift, as it were. I’ve also gotten ride of the notion of multi-tasking. I always make mistakes when I try to do that. I bet you do too. That’s how I came upon this picture. Dogarito was taking her time in the shade. She’s smart. The longer we spent in the shade , then the cooler we would be during our walks. She’s even managed to cut the length of our walks down by at least 30%. That’s less exercise, but she isn’t coming home half dead and very thirsty. Dogs are the perfect example. No. They don’t think cognitively. But, the know stuff.  They live in the moment. …

They Said…


They said. Yes, they did. They said that new studies indicate that coffee drinkers live longer. With the amount of coffee consumed around this place, I’m pretty sure that some of us will live forever. My first thought was “Damn, I’m never leaving.” Don’t get me wrong. I have no death wish. I don’t want to die. But, we know that all things must pass. I accept that. Even living to over 100 years old really doesn’t interest me. The quality of life just doesn’t seem to be there. It’s likely that you’d out live most friends and family. It could very well be that living to 100 is a very lonely endeavour.  I don’t know.  I’d ask the next “senior-senior” citizen that I see, but that might not be the kind of question you should ask. Seriously. Anyway. I was watching the espresso flowing into the cup when I thought it actually looked kind of cool. So. I photographed it while it was in process. Then, I did my thing to it and made it …

The Pirates


” It’s a summer afternoon, somewhere in Kansas or Illinois or Oklahoma. The wind is blowing the leaves down the gutter as the mailman comes by. “Afternoon Mrs. Higgins, hot enough for ya?” Over on Stone County Road there’s the smell of chicken frying. “Henry! It’s getting t’wards suppertime you know. Henry!” There she calls from her second floor room. The end of a back porch afternoon. Where we’d stand on the bow of our own man-of-war. No longer the back porch any more. And we’d sail pulling for China. The pirates of Stone County Road. All weathered and blown. And we’d sail ever in glory. ‘Till hungry and tired. The pirates of Stone County Road. Were turning for home. “ — 1969, John Stewart. From the album, California Bloodlines. Once a upon a time. Long ago. I seem to be determined to go on a journey through my past. I’ve been having dreams about the past. About a 1969 El Camino with a 454 big block motor. About places that I’ve been. About people I’ve lost over the years. …

Another Good Start


First. The Wild Boars are free. That’s what I awoke to read today. I think, after that, I’ll just stop reading the news. Most of it is bad. I’ll just add one thing. We talk about police, firemen, that military as being heroes. They’re not. For the most part, they are just doing their jobs. Ask them. They’ll tell you. Ask a soldier. He or she will tell you that the only heroes are the ones who didn’t come home. The divers and support teams who journied to Thailand are heroes. Combined with the Thai Navy Seals and the local medal staff, they went above and beyond. The international team didn’t have to travel to Chiang Rai from all over the world. But, they did. They shared their expertise, courage and skills with 12 young, scared boys and their coach while the world watched. The picture. Simplicity today in a nod to the Buddhism that most Thais practice. Making this picture wasn’t as easy as you might think. If you look at the detail you …