The whole family went swimming in the creek the other day – even Rocco. It’s always a great place to snap pictures: the black water makes a dramatic backdrop and my subjects are so busy having fun that they forget all about the camera.
I have long been a fan of the simple beauty of the daisy. Sometimes it’s harder to see the everyday flowers. Isn’t that true of anything we love once it becomes familiar? It takes something to shake us out of our same-old eyes to realize all over again how stunning it really is.
In the dog days of summer, there are hints of a new season waiting in the wings. We feel it in the cool of the morning air, the gathering dark of the evening, and the urge to turn on the oven instead of firing up the grill.
Photography is all about light. Some days, though, the sun has set and I realize I haven’t clicked a frame. This can a big frustration but, then, limitation can spark creativity, too. Letting go of any expectation that the images will be sharp & clear, embracing this grainy, dim aesthetic, looking for any trace of light – it results in a different type of picture. Always better than throwing in the towel on the daily photo and often quite surprising.
Sometimes the dog is pulling your arm and you have an art fair in the morning and your son is scooping minnows in the creek, and you’re telling him it’s time to go and then the sunlight comes and hits a big tangle of dead forest undergrowth JUST SO and it all turns into a gestural scribble, a linear sculpture, a study of light & shadow. It’s nothing really. And, yet, it’s full of movement and life and death and struggle and some little bit of grace.
Sometimes all you get is that one moment, that one shot. And then it all keeps moving.
Luminous & cheerful in the sunlight, the white woodland blooms of the anemone become a graceful cascade of undulating stems and delicate petals at dusk. It’s as if they are giving their final curtsy after the radiant performance of the day.