Not spring.

Y

ou would think that this picture was made in spring, but it’s not. It was made a couple of days ago. This is a weird year and we normally have two growing seasons. We’ve just entered the second one.

Things are starting to bloom again.

Trees aren’t blooming except for the ones that Hurricane Ida shook. They are exhibiting spring-like growth.

I suspect that we’ll be hearing a lot about Pandora, an investigation that tries to understand where big money goes and who is doing all of this corporate scheming, er, scamming.

I read that in The Guardian, a London based newspaper, not because it’s better than U.S. newspapers, but because I wanted their perspective.

I had to laugh. They named locations like Ukraine, Belarus, England and… South Dakota.

Huh?

Apparently, the state has been stashing money offshore for years.

I don’t think that anybody is clean when it comes to money these days. Most folks are out for themselves which explains the fight to get people vaccinated when the very act is a no brainer.

What can I say? What can you say?

I

give up. WordPress is as fucked up as it’s ever been. This damn block system dropped two paragraphs on the other side. If you try to put the coursor in the middle of a paragraph it immediately defaults to the first line.

Until, I backed out of everything, wasting money and time, I couldn’t even type here.

And, they have the stones to tell me that I’m going to be billed at the end of the month. Good luck with that.


Wet and wild.

S

torms bring and leave their own unique beauty. That’s what I was attempting to capture in order to give you an idea of what it feels like when a big storm moves into my neighborhood.

I think of this picture not as a photograph, but as art. Art isn’t often literal. It’s autobiographical in many ways. That doesn’t mean the viewer must agree with the artist.

Oh no.

The viewer brings about 75% of the meaning to the work of art that is based on their own life experiences. You may see something in this work that is completely different from my intent.

As John Lennon once said when he was asked what his music meant, he replied, “Whatever you want it to mean.”

He said more in that sentence than many people can say in book.

It also confirms my own personal belief, that simpler is better.

What do y’all think?

T

his little attempt at art began as another tree picture.

Hurricane Ida brought the look of fall about two months early.

Once I stripped it down to almost a silhouette I started thinking about improvements.

Make no mistake, often improvements make the image worse. Much worse.

I decide to play with layering. This is tricky. It took me some time to find a picture that might work.

There were a lot of false starts. Finally, I located a picture that was composed of rain drops on a window.

It worked well. All that was left was fine tuning and posting it here.


So, everything doesn’t turn into fall colors.

W

hat are you going to do for the fall? It took me a minute to realize my friend was asking about autumn, not the fall of the country.

I really don’t know. I know that I won’t be traveling, at least until sometime until mid to late 2022.

I’m hoping that my booster vaccination will give me some kind of freedom. Otherwise, well, I really don’t know. I’ll have to wait until the virus is manageable or I’ll have to balance risk and reward.

I’m really hoping that I can photograph Mardi Gras 2022, if the virus is under control enough so the it really occurs.

I don’t even know about that.

The last Mardi Gras — in 2020 — became a super spreader event. We were attacked in New Orleans for the sickness that spread across the nation.

Of course, nobody knew that the virus was here or that it would spread so quickly. Well, except one person. The always lying 45th President of The United States.

If he did know, that’s one more act that he’ll have to account for when he reaches the pearly gates and is sent south where the devil will reject him because the devil will say, “That buffoon is worse than me.”

I didn’t intend to wander so far afield but he keeps stirring up trouble and losing as he is known to do.

Anyway, I’ll discuss my green fall photograph on the right hand side.

T

oday is one of the better days since Hurricane Ida ripped so much stuff apart.

The region is putting some of that stuff back together, but it’s a slow process.

I suppose that this little stand of green was exposed because the storm managed to take down two trees that were keeping them in shade.

I saw them sparkling in the cooler fall air and low light and figured that I should do something.

So, I did it while never leaving my chair by the pool.

Sometimes, it’s easy. Mostly, it’s not that easy.

Photographers luck. You know?


Once upon a time.

H

ere it comes. Hurricane Ida blowing through the gulf. She is expected to make landfall in Louisiana around 2pm on Sunday, August 29.

Something just walked up my back as I wrote that. A kind of chilling thing. A kind of dread.

Because.

August 29th is the 16th anniversary of Hurricane Katrina making landfall at Buras, Louisiana.

I had a bad feeling then, and I have a bad feeling now.

According to the NOAA map and cone, at this time it should actually hit about 75 miles north on a line with Baton Rouge. That can change hourly. The barometric pressure is about 1002. By the time IDA arrives the BP will be in the mid to upper 800s.

There will be a very high storm surge since that time of day will host a high tide.

That should not affect us. That’s because we bought this house in a place that has never flooded in NOLA history. It’s located on very high ground; 6 feet above sea level he wrote with a large dose of snark.

We are getting ready, but we are always mostly ready. The last thing we’ll do on Sunday is close the storm shutters.

We aren’t evacuating because of CoVid-19. What good will it do to leave a place that might get damaged to end up on a place that could kill me?

I’ll post again on Sunday. It’ll be short and mostly discuss current storm conditions.

B

elieve it or not, this is a Hurricane Katrina picture. I made it the next summer after the storm.

I came back to sell our New Orleans house which has been flooded by four inches of water that came through a door in the service area.

floor If the people who did the add-on would have built it to the rest of the house’s height, our home would have stayed dry.

But, they didn’t.

I wanted to have a look around. I made my way to The Lower 9th Ward, a place that was flooded by 14 feet of water and is sacred ground because so many people died there.

I was looking for a landmark house. Seeing it would tell me where to to turn.

I couldn’t find it. It wasn’t there. A stand of bamboo took its place.

Nature always seeks stasis.

I

want to talk about one more thing. Mental health. After the storm and the heavy destruction about 85% of the returnees were on some kind of mood stabilizer. Every one and anyone.

Most of us stopped using those meds because we had, in the words of many psychological practitioners, “Situational Depression.”

Nobody thought about our next phase of mental upset. PTSD. Anybody who has been through an extreme trauma can suffer from it. It doesn’t just affect former military personnel.

It manifests itself in different ways. A photographer I know tried to commit suicide by cop. Thankfully, he’s known about town. The NOPD knew him and talked him down. Drinking reached an all time high in a city that is perpetually drunk. There was a very high divorce rate in the first couple of years after the storm.

On the other hand, when we ran into each other for the first time after the storm we’d greet each other with hugs, kisses and dancing in the streets. And, that was just the men.

Me? Only a kind of PSTD plagues me every year about this time. I start getting hyper vigilant. I start checking our storm plans. And, I start getting clumsy. For a big guy I’m pretty light on my toes. In the house, we all are.

Ha!

Let’s talk about today. I started to make espresso. We have big plumbed thing that is a PIA to use so we bought a little Nespresso machine. I noticed the water tank was almost empty. I filled a measuring cup and started to pour it into the tank. I missed it by that much and the water ended up on the counter and floor. I dropped two full cups of espresso on the floor. I went upstairs and walked into a wall. That wall has been there since we lived into the house. And, so it went.

I can hardly wait for tomorrow.


The greenies.

T

here’s a lot of reckoning and taking journeys through the past going on this house.

We did a lot during the first lockdown. We stared to raise our heads and — BLAMMO — Delta-x and my own issues locked us down again.

This time, it’s deep diving into past. I’ll think about my oldest archives and just laugh. Twenty-five years of shooting black and white film isn’t the easiest thing to organize.

The rest is easier because the slides were edited by Hurricane Katrina. I recently found a slide page that I thought I could save. I removed a slide and the smell came wafting out even though it’s been 16 years. It’s a smell that you’ll never forget.

Luckily, my best work was scanned and traveled with us when we evacuated. These days, my best work is in a cloud. Know the password and it’s with you wherever you are.

The rest of my archive are digital files. They are already organized by date, subject and location. The reason to work through is to find the lost gems and to compress the archive by removing all of the out takes.

Some photographers use the Monica Lewinski – Bill Clinton event as a reason to keep everything you shoot because you never know. One photographer found one negative after hours of looking. That hasn’t been repeated that I know of, except by me, when a video producer need pictures of a murder in the New River Valley of Virginia.

There are two other paths we are taking. I’ll tell you about them tomorrow if I remember. Trust me. I might not remember.

Who I am I, again?

T

echnique? Ha!

See it. Push the button a couple of times. Develop it. Edit it.

Done.

I suppose you can see that the picture is about new leaves growing in a place where they normally wouldn’t except you never know.

Those little green leaves could turn into branches.

If.

The birds and squirrels leave them alone.

But, this reshuffling of old pictures is getting — shall we say — old.

I might actually go outside and wander around. It’s time.

Time to pull up my pants and get to work.


One day, one night.

Y

ou’ll never believe what I did to this picture. Before I tell you, let me say that for the rest of this week Storyteller will look a little different.

WordPress sent me a long email about changes to the block system to which I replied, “Oh God.”

WordPress sent me a long email about changes to the block system to which I replied, “Oh God.”

I thought about it for a little while and decided that rather than complain out of hand I should at least test some of the new stuff. There’s a lot of it.

Immediately, you see the tag cloud. They have existed from the dawn of WordPress, but not in such a flexible manner. If all I can do is make the text red, this will be my last day of using it. I suspect that I might be able to make color changes in the text block.

I’m also adding a publishing calendar and a comments list today. There may be other things, or I’ll just wait until tomorrow.

October 2021
S M T W T F S
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10111213141516
17181920212223
24252627282930
31  

L

et’s start with the tag cloud text color. I can’t find a way to change it, but I’ll leave it for today.

On to the picture.

I made it in broad daylight probably around 10 am. It is a winter tree against a cloudless blue sky.

My original post production turned the sky a very dark blue and the branches almost a silvery white. I posted that some time ago.

Last night I started messing with it because I had to clear my head of a day in which another New Orleans photographer died. I’ll write a bit about him tomorrow.

I turned the branches green and the sky turned black on its own after color overlap from the branches.

I made sure the image was as sharp as possible and gave it to you.


In a quiet place.

M

any years ago, I used to publish an experimental picture every Sunday. I haven’t done it for a long while. I’d like to say that I’m going to resume, but I’ll probably forget.

Throughout the news sites that I read there have been discussions about CoVid-19 (Over 106,000 daily new infections.), The Olympics, national and global fires, climate change and water.

Since I live in the land of too much water, I thought that I’d focus on that, not so much from a documentary standpoint, but from an artistic standpoint.

So.

This picture is about water. And, leaves. And, branches.

It took some doing to combine these natural elements because they are three separate pictures. We’ll get to that in a minute.

To my mind, all of the news with the exception of The Olympics are nature being nature. Even sports in Japan could fall into the nature category because anyone who competed outside felt the Japanese heat.

I’ve written this in the past, but to me it seems like nature, always seeking stasis, has finally had enough. Ma Nature has decided we — the human race — is the problem and she’s going to do something about us.

Or, we can mend our way. Right this minute. Now.

L

ayers. That’s my trick. As I wrote on the other side, there are three layers here.

Water, leaves and branches. Each of them was photographed at different times.

I started with the water and dropped the leaves into that. I held that back and worked on the branches, which ultimately becomes the base of the entire image.

There was the usual fine tuning and adding the faux bokeh.

I was finished.

I want to discuss one other topic. A friend of mine wrote blog about light. He said that the “overused painting with light” was really not in the discussion.

I wonder why he did that. Photography is literally the Greek words for “Painting with light.” Or, really, “Drawing with light.”

That’s the very first thing you learn in a photo class at any level.


Flowers, water, and grass.

U

pside down. That’s what’s happening to my days. I go to bed early, as in early in the morning. I get up late, like around noon. I’m not sure why my body is doing this, but it’s fine with me.

The weather is very hot and humid. Summer in southeastern Louisiana.

Walking during the day is draining. Walking at 3 am isn’t so bad. Nobody is ever out in my neighborhood so I don’t worry about bad guys.

I just have to remember to do the things that are expected, like Storyteller, before I go to bed. That’s kind of the long way of telling you why I’m late.

I mentioned this to friend who suggested that I just go to bed earlier. It doesn’t work that way. All I do is toss and turn for an hour or two.

So, I might as well make the best of it.

Sometimes, I work a little bit rather than read or watch a movie. I have to be careful with that because it stimulates my brain which keeps me awake even longer.

That would be a problem.

A

little magic. That’s what it took to make this image.

There are two images that were layered in such a way that the bottom image almost doesn’t show up.

You’ll be amazed when I tell you what the bottom image is.

It’s pool water that I darkened to the point that it turned greenish black.

Then, I layered those little flowers on top. These flowers, by the way, are smaller than a dime in real life.

I also removed some darkness from the base layer once I had the flowers in place.

That’s all there was to it. Ha!


Taking them home.

G

reen Streetcars. They travel from Canal Street, along St. Charles Avenue, making a turn on Carrolton where they come to their terminus after about a mile or so.

Many local people use them to commute to work, to shop, to visit friends, and to go to appointments.

It’s real live public transportation just like a bus, except that it’s much more fun to use.

I always tell tourists to get out of The French Quarter and go see the rest of New Orleans. The easiest way is to catch the street car on Canal Street and go for a ride.

If you do ride to the end, you can catch the red streetcar and travel down Canal Street where it makes a turn and ends near the French Market.

If you take it in the other direction you can ride to City Park near the art museum.

That’s my tourist advice for today.

T

oday seems to be experimentation day. I tried to enlarge the picture. Oh, I can, but it skews the page to the point that it is unreadable. Even small increases in size do that.

Then, I’m experimenting with different columns widths just to learn what happens. This one is a simple swapping of columns.

No worries.

I think it’s a little hard to read the main story. I’ll switch it back or do something that’s a little easier to read.

T

he picture.

That’s what you came for, isn’t it?

This is obviously a blurred motion picture. Everything moves and vibrates. That wasn’t my intent. On this night working in The Garden District I felt safe enough to use a tripod.

But, not on this picture.

I hadn’t planned on a streetcar passing by as it did. I swung around with the tripod pretty much hanging in the air. That’s not how you use a tripod but it was a “Hail Mary” sort of thing.

When I started to cull the images I realized that photographer’s luck came into play and I made this picture.

There’s not much you can do with it in post production. The biggest task is to make it light enough to view, but not lose contrast in the dark areas.

If you come to town, ride the streetcar. Make a better picture than this one.