My inaugural blog post was a self portrait. During my first 365 project in 2010, the distorted self portrait was one of my favorite subjects (selfies weren’t quite de rigueur yet). My interest in taking these photos dropped off somewhat but Sunday, in the bright autumn sun and the dazzle of art at Franconia Sculpture Park, my mirrored sunglasses were too much fun to ignore…you can’t see much of me, but you can get a sense: I’m a hat girl and I shoot Canon 🙂
An autumnal companion to this spring reflection. I never tire of the play of light, color, and movement on the water. This image to me shines with all the intensity of a bright, sunny fall day, full of unbelievably intense color.
I keep adding lights to the studio – a necessity for the many, long, dark winter months ahead (if I want to work past 5pm). The latest is an LED strip to light up the last remaining black hole. I like that it looks like I’m lighting up a marquee, ready for showtime, because that is where I’m at these days…ready to rock.
Friday night we got whisked away for a spontaneous group outing to the annual block party at Our Lady of Peace, a neighborhood church. The carnival rides lit up the night. Happy screams and dance music formed the soundtrack. That’s Zola on the far left, getting ready to give the ride operator a high five. Sometimes it’s great to let the whirlwind of life catch you up and carry you away.
The Virgin’s Bower clematis is an aggressive vine. Covered with small white, star-shaped flowers in summer, by early fall the whole vine is a hairy mess of seeds. I can’t help thinking of truffula tufts (or a raging case of bed head).
They have a certain disheveled charm. Then, after a while, they just look messy. It’s a fine line.
The other night I completed my first ever trail run. It’s something I’ve been interested in trying for awhile now. It was really hot and the hills kicked my butt but I’m excited to try again in a couple weeks.
After a shower, I opened a cold beer and cooked up the food that has sustained me for over 20 years: a bean and cheese burrito smothered in salsa and sour cream.
At that moment (approximately 9:30pm), in my PJ’s with my hot dinner in front of me and my fork in hand, I realized that, AGAIN, I had forgotten to take a photo all day. I pulled out my iPhone and snapped two godawful pictures of my plate. When it came time to post one, I was mortified: it looked like a burrito massacre. The light was bad, the salsa was garishly red, and there was nothing remotely artful about any of it. Still, I figured it was better than showing up empty-handed for the third time in a week.
I couldn’t bring my self to share the photo. So I went completely berserk with Photoshop and turned it into something I could stomach.
It was one of those desperate moments when I realize, just before crawling into bed, that I’ve forgotten to take a photo. (This seems to be happening with increasing frequency, unfortunately.)
In those moments, I try not to throw in the towel. No matter how tired I am, or how dark it is, or how really uninteresting my bedroom appears, I believe there is something to see. Some material for art-making to be found. I always grab my camera and start looking. Sometime while cursing under my breath.
Count on light, reflection, and shadow to come through in the clutch every time…