Creativity

Sep

2011

Daily Practice

Submit to a daily practice. Keep knocking and the joy inside will eventually open a window. -Rumi

Things have been busy here in monkdom. I know many of us have busy lives; it is one of the things that tends to define us as Americans, it seems, and I notice it often as a casual yet telling response to a friendly greeting in my parts. “What you been up to?” the greeter asks. “Oh, not much. Busy, busy…”

Not many more details are given and none more are requested, as if to say “well, if you won’t volunteer it, or don’t remember it, then it’s not that important to me.”

Well, here, we’ve been busy, busy. And I’m gonna tell you about it, mostly because I’m enthused about it and also because all this business is separating the wheat from the chaff for me and the role of photography in my life.

The quote above is a quick little ditty that has deep meaning for those spiritually oriented, but it also speaks true of those of us in the quest for that satisfying artistic expression: our voice. “Submit to a daily practice and have faith” that quote seems to say. Work daily, practice daily, be mindful, daily and what you seek or what you need will somehow, somewhere, present itself.

It is a challenging thing to do because submitting to this daily practice is supposed to challenge you. It is supposed to make you question what you are doing and why you are doing it. It is supposed to take you right to the edge of the limits of what you know about your art (and even perhaps yourself) and make you peer, seriously peer, over the edge at “what if?”

For me this has been coming through stress, challenging work, lack of sleep, deadlines, limits, and illness. Life has been full, my responsibilities feeling so vast, that there seemed to not be room for photography in it. I actually asked myself if I should stop for now; if I was trying to do too much.

I haven’t fully answered that question yet but I find myself coming through it all with greater clarity and with a realization that despite all the challenges some wonderful things have taken place throughout it all. I was recently paid to photograph a Baptism and was quite pleased with the result; I’ve had a photographic series published at Rear Curtain (the first and hopefully not the last); I’ve started lightening my gear bag as I wander and travel with wonderful results and more enjoyable trips; I’ve completed a new photobook I am excited about and awaiting the proof with anticipation; I’ve edited down a huge series to 6 images that I think tell a story with greater impact; I’ve begun to expose myself to varying art forms with greater enthusiasm and energy.

This past Saturday I convinced my family to take a drive to Santa Fe and had the chance to visit the Verve Photography Gallery there. It is a wonderful place with a welcome and accommodating staff and some of the most astounding photography gracing the walls. My purpose there was more directed than just taking in the prints displayed. I was after a book, or books, by Norman Mauskopf. Ever since Daniel Milnor (aka. Smogranch) had mentioned Mauskopf in a blog post I’d wanted to see his stuff. Both Milnor and Mauskopf are undertaking or have undertaken projects close to my heart: Milnor is engaged in a lengthy project on New Mexico and Mauskopf has completed fantastic works on horse racing, rodeo, and the Latino descendants of Spanish settlers in Northern New Mexico. All of these projects rank in the “holy crap” level of difficulty.

These two are in the stratosphere of documentary photography and noticing my attraction to their work has made me realize the pull I feel in my photography. What that is exactly still remains to be seen-that will require more practice-but the idea and the way has begun to take form in the fog.

By the way, Mauskopf is teaching a visual storytelling workshop in Santa Fe this October through Santa Fe Photographic Workshops and Daniel Milnor is leading one in Peru.

Aug

2011

The World Is Your Oyster (or some pitfalls of this wonderful world)

This is a wonderful time! This is a wonderful time to be a photographer! The digital age, with its cameras, Photoshop, Lightroom, plugins, widgets, websites, apps, wordpress, blogs, FaceBook, Twitter, Google+, has allowed us to connect and share faster, with greater accuracy, and with a broader reach than ever before. Lest we take it for granted it would do us some good to remember that this is a wonderful time for photography.

This is also a challenging time. There is so much available to us so quickly that we can be at risk for developing an inability to tolerate disappointment, boredom, or frustration. This ability to tolerate uncomfortable mood states is an important skill that we begin to learn early in life provided we have some good mentoring through attuned caregivers. Parents will recognize this as the tantrum throwing ages of 2 or 3 when each little disappointment becomes a major crisis for a while. Eventually we learn that small disappointments are different from large ones and, hopefully, we stop “losing it” every time something does not go our way.

The challenge, however, is to continue learning this skill in smaller and more subtle ways as we continue our journey through life. Our current “distraction available at every turn” world threatens us gently, time and again, with the reward of distraction from discomfort rather than encouraging the tolerance of it.

And this threatens our art.

That LCD on the back of the camera offers much distraction in the form of chimping or learning our internal camera settings that it just might detract us from developing the patience to watch the light slowly change over a landscape. The computer, that wonderful device that has opened this whole new world, threatens to distract us through Twitter, FaceBook, Google+ing from sitting and focusing on our editing, book-making, working efforts. (I was made vibrantly aware of this just the other evening…and as a result my latest Blurb.com book remains uncompleted.)

All hope is not lost however; we continue to have dominion over our own minds for the time being. Just becoming aware of our tendencies, and the tendencies of our continued connection to Web2.0, can do wonders in making mindful choices to focus on what will actually feed our soul, nurture our creativity, and produce the work that is precious to us and-I would argue-to the world.

How have you found yourself distracted from your goals, projects, or photography? Stay tuned for another blog post on some ideas how to overcome “distraction-itis.”

Jun

2011

Turn Around and Photograph What Is Around You

My horse, Cometa, and I nap in the middle of a long day. Photo courtesy of my wife, Ana Aragon de Miller

I have been watching other photographers, local friends mostly, as they move through their process in photography. Readers of this blog will recognize I’m particularly attracted to the creative process and how that works out psychologically. Watching my friends, and myself, struggle with the creative process in photography is endlessly fascinating for me. One struggle I have observed many of us go through is what I call, the “loss of subject matter” phase.

The process can go something like this: 1) the person gets enamored with images and image making; 2) the person becomes enamored with and buys a “good” camera; 3) they take pictures of everything and everyone; 4) eventually they get a bit better and become more selective about what they shoot; 5) they begin to grow disenchanted with their subject matter-it isn’t as interesting as it once was-it has been done before-it is old hat; 6) eventually they can feel like there isn’t anything local that they want to photograph and they need to travel to get that feeling back.

Not everyone experiences it in this way, but it is fair to say that many of us find the distant and unknown more exotic to photograph than the local and known. Henri Cartier-Bresson, that heralded pioneering photographer, once said,

“To interest people in faraway places-to shock them, delight them-is not too difficult. But the most difficult thing is in your own country. You know too much….when it’s your own block, with such a routine, it’s quite difficult to get. When it’s places I go to all the time-I know too much and not enough and to be lucid about it is the most difficult.”¹

And yet, who better to tell the local stories than those of us who live right here? Whether it is Howard County, Maryland or Albuquerque, New Mexico, or Lubbock Texas, stuff happens there, interesting stuff happens there. I will venture that if you start looking, really looking, you will find something interesting right where you are. David duChemin recently encouraged people to pass on buying new gear and put the money toward buying plane tickets. That is great advice. After all, it’s not in the gear that you will find great images. But it is also not really in photographing more exotic places that you will become a better photographer. Becoming a better photographer happens by seeing with newer and better eyes, and using the camera at hand to depict your vision of what is presented before you. What better place to start than in your own town?

Cartier-Bresson, in the quote above, said he knew “too much and not enough” about the places with which he was familiar. I know it is the same for me. How about you? What if we were to get curious about where we live? Can we really effectively tell the stories of distant lands when we cannot see and tell the stories of our own land?

What is it you don’t know enough about in your neck of the woods? What stories are there that are just begging to be told? Explore what you know about where you live and go deeper than you’ve gone before; explore what you do not know. Challenge your assumptions about your environment (yes, you do have them!) and look deeper at the people living there, their habits, their customs, their celebrations, their losses. What draws you in? What repels you? Provided you will be safe enough, can you explore those subjects that give you a negative reaction as well as those that you are attracted to? There is a landscape, a people (or several), a history, a culture, nature, in everyone’s home town; what is the visual story of that place.

Turn around, get curious about the place you live. It is fine to long for travel and adventure but, if you’re anything like me, you’ll spend most of your days at home. And I believe that is an interesting place. You are more qualified to tell that story than I am as I just past through and skim the surface.

PS. I got totally jazzed about photographing where I live after I started thinking in this way and, wouldn’t you know it, opportunities have begun presenting themselves to me. So, I’ve got a fun one in the works that I hope turns out. Stay tuned. I don’t want to give anything away but I’m really jazzed to photograph this.

PPS. Oh, and for some additional help with making photographs “close to home” check out Stuart Sipahigil’s wonderful ebook. Aptly titled “Close to Home”, it is available for purchase through the good folks at Craft & Vision.

¹. This quote is taken from this video featuring Henri Cartier-Bresson’s work and comments on it that was up on vimeo for a while but has since been taken down. The DVD is available on www.icp.org. The direct link to the video store page is here.

Jun

2011

The Artist’s “Raison D’être”

About a week ago I wrote a blog post about how I inspired someone through my art and I’ve been wrestling with what I really want to say about meaning. I’m not fully sure I’ve arrived at my thesis for this subject but I wanted to turn you on to something written by my electronic friend, Stuart Sipahigil, upon his return home from The Artist’s Roundtable.

Pop on over here to read is post.

Apparently Stuart has found his “raison d’être”, his reason for being, his purpose while at that workshop. What a profound gift, that.

I should know. My day job is in the mental health field and I often find myself sitting with people who are suffering because they’ve lost their “raison d’être due to one reason or another. It can be a painful state.

The challenge then is to try to discover something that has meaning deep inside the person and this journey of discovery can be long an arduous. Stuart was fortunate that he was with some skilled and empathic friends who didn’t answer his questions for him, or relieve him from the hard questions. And out of the questioner came the answer. And what an answer!

How does this relate to creativity. Well, I believe that art that comes from a sense of purpose within the artist is more honest art; the artist creates their own personal work-their vision-when it has meaning, personal meaning, for them. And a good way to do that is to align their art with their personal purpose. After all, isn’t photography, as Henri Cartier-Bresson said, a way of screaming what you feel?

Jun

2011

In Defense of Mindlessness

: Shelter

I was listening to a podcast recently where Matt Brandon was interviewing David duChemin. It was a wonderful interview. I find Matt to be a skilled interviewer, weaving his own opinions gently into the conversation with the interviewee and thereby making meaningful discussions worth listening to. Matt was fully engaged in this interview as well, as was David.

David appears to be a wonderful man and I have to say I have very much enjoyed reading his books, ebooks, and blog posts as he manages to be courageous enough to discuss those aspects of the photographic world that just rile him up. This interview is no different and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

During the course of the interview, while attempting to make a point, David mentioned that part of his goal is to encourage people to photograph more mindfully. And that got me thinking…

Now, before I start my rant, allow me this one disclaimer: I love mindfulness. I’ve studied Buddhist and Hindu forms of mindfulness training; I’ve applied it to my personal, professional, and spiritual life; I have to say that mindfulness has turned my life around and is responsible for its positive direction at this time. I’m all for it. I love it. And I understand and support what David is trying to do regarding how photographers photograph. But are we in danger of tossing mindlessness in the trash bin because it is the flip side of the mindful/mindless coin?

Now, another note before I continue: I think some defining clarity is in order. When I speak of Mindlessness I am using the term in a very specific way. Mindlessness to me is not Distractedness. Distractedness, as I define it, is the state of having our attention taken away from the present to something else: smartphones, iPads, TV, daydreaming, that sort of thing. Mindlessness, to me, is different from Distractedness in that it is the state of being fully present but not actively thinking. It is a state of being observant, aware, present, engaged, receptive, responsive.

To my way of thinking this is a state of openness and receptivity that should be highly prized in creative circles. Think “being in the flow” or “being in the zone.” Mindlessness is a state of effortless ease in the moment of great effort; a time of clarity in the midst of confusion. It is, I believe, the time when we are most receptive to the whispers of the muse. It is, therefore, a state worth cultivating.

But what of mindlessness? Is it getting a bad rap? Is it getting a rap at all? Is it even on the radar? The image above is my example of Mindless photographing. My friends and I had snowshoed out to this stone house on the summit ridge of the Sandia Mountains outside of Albuquerque and I had a good time making a few images of the house. I’d thought through my exposure settings and aperture settings; I’d visualized the final outcome of the image given the cloud we were in and the contrast between the snow, trees, and stone; I’d worked out and photographed from several vantage points. In short, I’d been mindful about photographing my subject. Finished with my images I’d put my camera in my pack and started to sling that pack onto my shoulders when I noticed the cross-country skier heading up to the house.

In that moment, with my pack half slung, I had a familiar feeling. It was a feeling just like the days, years earlier, when I raced bicycles full time: after all the training and analyzing of my competition, my gearing, my heart-rate, the wind, the terrain and we were whizzing down the race course, that a voice in my head both shouted and whispered “NOW!” When I listened to the voice I always ended up in the winning breakaway. When I didn’t listen I was left to watch that winning breakaway ride away from the main field of riders, leaving me to duke out the minor placings against a much larger contingent of riders.

“NOW” that voice whisper/screamed in my ear. For a moment I hesitated…almost too long. But that feeling, and my state of Mindlessness, allowed me to be responsive to what I can only consider the Muse. As I ripped open my pack, and the camera bag stuffed inside, I followed the skier with my eyes, “seeing” the image in my mind’s eye as it was beginning to take form in front of me. As the camera came up the aperture was set matching shutter speed to ensure good depth of field while freezing the action-all without thinking about it. He wasn’t slow, this skier, so only one moment was possible and when the right pose was struck at the right spot the exposure was made.

I’m quite sure I didn’t make this photograph. That came from somewhere else. While being in my Mindless place I allowed the Muse to work through me-or at least I didn’t hinder the process with my active mind.

It is an odd thing to trust this process. It takes a measure of courage to do so. After all, we’ve spent a lot of time and energy learning this craft. We’ve put countless hours into understanding exposure, aperture, composition, white balance, ISO settings. After all that time and conscious thought and effort to learn, understand, focus, and execute mindfully how do we trust that this explicit knowledge has somehow become implicit and will flow out of ourselves from a place in ourselves beyond thought. Surrendering to the Muse might be an uncomfortable idea for some, but I am making the argument now that this is a place and experience of great beauty and out of which much of what is true and honest about art and creativity is born. I am suggesting that we might give ourselves over to another force while making images Mindlessly. It might seem odd at first but after a few tries, when you feel the flow, you will know.

For more on the subject but perhaps with different words check out the latter section of Steven Pressfield’s book, “The War of Art” and Elizabeth Gilbert’s presentation on the muse at TED.com.

Listen to Matt Brandon’s interview with David duChemin HERE

Jun

2011

Cracked: the Challenge of Too Much Creativity

I don’t know. Not many weeks ago I was wallowing in self pity as I waded through the morass of Resistance; no mojo, no drive, no direction. Motivation wasn’t even waxing and waning; it was simply waning. Today I find myself on the flip side of that coin.

And it’s not much better, really.

Oh, I know. Don’t get me wrong. If I were back in the morass I would be praying for the challenges I am facing at the moment. I might just have actually done so back then. I don’t remember. I was lost.

But today I struggle with a different “problem.” Too much motivation. Too many projects. Too many ideas. I feel pulled in too many directions photographically. I’m finishing up a project for my brother; I’m putting finishing touches on a photobook for my family (it is nearly a year overdue and I’ve another due in August!); I’ve begun a project based on my nephew’s high school baseball games; and this spurred me to start another project that I’m keeping quiet at the moment in order to experiment with working through an entire project without outside input.

So, I feel torn, pulled, distracted. Too many irons in the fire. It feels like the opposite of “too many cooks spoil the broth.” It’s more that there are too many pots going simultaneously on the stove so that I cannot concentrate effectively on getting one right.

Finally, however, I recognized my “problem” and pushed through delivering the proofs for my brother’s pictures. Now I can focus on getting that photobook done for my family. But wait, I have a really great idea….

May

2011

Working Through the Morass in the Creative Process

It has been a slow time in blog-land for me these past two weeks. A quick peek at my last post might give some idea why. Hanging out in the morass of Resistance is never an easy challenge and this bout is sure reminding me of that. But I have not sat still.

Thankfully I know that the morass of Resistance can be the fire out of which new creativity arises. The mythological symbol of the Phoenix rising from the ashes is an apt metaphor for this. So too is the Hindu Goddess Kali-the Goddess of Destruction. Before each new creation something else must give way. Psychologists, as well as others in the mental health fields, sometimes refer to this as Alchemical Transformation. While historically alchemists attempted to turn base metals into gold through purification methods and fire, this term can also metaphorically refer to the process of psychological growth; in the fire of our difficult emotions our psychological makeup can be transformed.

To me, creativity, aliveness, has some of its roots in our individual and collective psychology. So I see my own descent into the morass of Resistance, the fires of uncertainty and self doubt, as an opportunity for psychological and creative growth. A, perhaps small, rebirth.

the working cover for my new book tentativly titled "Yucatecan Color"

So, following Steven Pressfield’s direction in “Do the Work” (read this postfor a more in dept look at this big little book) I have continued to do the work I can do. Lately I’ve taken to carrying my new-to-me Pentax K1000 film camera around and have learned about the vagaries of expired film; I’ve switched to shooting black and white on my digital cameras (I shoot RAW so the file is still ultimately in color, but the preview is B&W and that is helping me “see” in B&W”); and I have been working on a photobook with images from my trips to the Yucatán Penninsula in Mexico which will soon be available through blurb.com.

The outcome of all this work still remains to be seen. But I suppose it is fundamental to have some faith in the process; to know in one’s heart that all will be fine again, that the mojo will return and the creative sparks will ignite some fires.

Speaking of that, I’ve got this idea for a project….

May

2011

The Morass of Resistance

The other day I wrote about an author, Steven Pressfield, and particularly two books of his that address a particular challenge that arises in most, if not all, creative people: Resistance. Then I smashed face-first into my own.

Pressfield describes Resistance as a naturally occurring force that comes, part and parcel, along with the urge to create; two sides of the same coin. This simple explanation has helped me tremendously. Mostly it helps with separating Resistance from who I am personally; it helps me to remove it from my egoic identification with myself. As a result it decreases the amount of shame I encounter when running into Resistance (i.e., writer’s block, loss of mojo, self doubt, self pity, procrastination, embarrassment, etc.). Since these are no longer reflective of who I am, they are no longer “my” faults, but rather they are part and parcel of creation. They are part of creation, and creativity, itself.

Part of the trick in working with Resistance and overcoming it is to identify when it happens. In his new book, Do The Work, Pressfield mentions that every project of significant effort will crash. There is a moment, perhaps short and perhaps not, that will leave you feeling like you can’t do it, it’s not good enough, it’s not worth enough, you are not worthy, good enough, smart enough, fast enough, bright enough, charming enough, deserving enough, …you get the point. Something, or everything, will conspire against you to make you give up, stop, quit, throw in the towel, fail. It might be that your hard drive crashes, the camera aperture mechanism quits, someone doesn’t like your work, YOU don’t like your work, you run out of money, you come into a large sum of money, whatever…

The key is that something will throw you off your game and it is up to you to notice it is Resistance, find the fix to the disruption, and finish the project. I had this happen to me recently.

As you might have noticed, this blog is my attempt to understand creativity through the photographic medium. It also involves writing, wondering, gnashing teeth, and wrestling with ideas. It also involves connecting with others. Well, as per usual, I did that the other day, happily proud of my observations and completely unaware that I would be bulldozed by Resistance. I wrote a comment on a contact’s blog about those hard-to-define buzzwords in photography: vision and voice. I was proud of what I wrote and wholly unprepared for what followed.

A couple of comments later was a comment from the mentor of the blog owner that I felt undercut my comment. I was crushed and felt myself buckle at the sting; and I experienced Resistance wash over me and begin to drag me down into its morass. Now, I have to point out that, upon reflection and re-reading, the comment by this person was not bad and not necessarily pointed at me. And, to be fair, probably was not even aimed at my fragile ego. The gentleman was simply making a point and taking part in the conversation. What is poignant in this experience for me was my interpretation of the commentary and what that did.

I began to doubt myself, slowly at first but then it began to gain steam: was I wrong?; did I know what I was talking about?; what right to I have to make a comment such as this?; do I even know what I am talking about?; this guy is a well respected photographer and I’m a nobody so I need to just shut up, or better yet, give up. stop. Quit while I’m ahead. Quit while I still can. With each negative thought my mind found evidence to validate it. I could feel myself begin to question my entire reason for blogging, for writing, for photographing even (after all I work a full-time plus job, I have a family to care for, a home to care for, aging parents to worry over…see, lots of validation for my questioning.) Woah, that was fast!

Thankfully I was simultaneously reading Do The Work, especially the section on your project crashing, and I was able, slowly, to notice that Resistance had me in a headlock. This knowledge can be enough to break free-and give fodder for a blog post or two about creativity. The trick is to notice that Resistance has arisen, identify any problem that is getting in the way of the work, fix it, and continue the work. For me that involved identifying and understanding my motivation for continuing this exploration of creativity through photography: to answer the “why” of the quest; to find the meaning in the journey. By knowing this I can settle back into to work despite Resistance gnashing at my ankles. And perhaps I can continue to try to define my understanding of vision and voice.

Apr

2011

6 Things My Magic Camera Knows About Taking Better Pictures

me and my magic camera

It has happened often enough for me to notice a pattern: I am taking pictures of a friend or family member, or of their kids, and I show them what I just captured on the LCD screen on the back of the camera. “Oooh, that’s a great shot; what a nice camera!” or “Wow, it pays to have a good camera,” or “Wow, I need to get a magic camera too.”

I am learning, slowly, to accept these statements as compliments to me despite being directed at my camera, but it is hard sometimes. I am not the first photographer this has happened to. For some reason lay-photographers believe the quality of an image comes from the tool used to produce it, as if Rembrandt or van Gogh had magic paintbrushes. I suppose since most everyone can push a shutter release button and thereby take a picture photography loses some respect as an artistic medium, and that makes me sad. I know people don’t mean to insult my art when they say such things, but it happens.

Yes most people can take a picture, and even a pretty picture. Most people can grow up and learn to cook too, but that doesn’t make them a chef. And I certainly would not give my good friend Chef Drew’s pots and pans credit for the delectable creations he dreams up and places on the table. There is so much that goes into creating a memorable photograph, on purpose, with intention, and the camera helps the photographer create their vision. But the camera is secondary to the image. And the image is not necessarily dependent on the quality of the camera. In fact, some photographers prefer cheap plastic cameras for the aesthetics they help create.

So what is it that good photographers, or perhaps their magic cameras, know that help them create beautiful images? Well, that can take a lifetime for individual photographers to discover but listed below are some things I have learned in my time as a photographer and I think they might help you as well.

click for larger view
Change your point of view (POV): we all stand basically about the same heightand as a result most images are taken from about 5 feet off the ground, so most images tell us a story from the same perspective. Change it up, get low, get high, tilt your camera at a creative angle. This is especially true when taking pictures of your kids or grandkids. I know some folks where every picture of their children has the poor kiddo looking up, neck craned all the way back, with a grimace of pain and discomfort on their face. Get low, shoot them from their pointof view. You will get a more unique image of them in their natural state, and possibly even a smile.
Learn a little about how your camera measures the amount of light in a scene. Most of us buy a camera, pull it out of the box, charge the battery, and start snapping away; I know I did. Nowadays I am aware of how the camera actually “sees” the image and, unfortunately or fortunately, it cannot see it the way our eyes do. It just can’t. Our eyes can see details in shadows and in highlights at the same time: they have a “high dynamic range.” The camera cannot. And so, we photographers have to choose where we want the detail: in the shadows or in the highlights? While some might consider this a limitation of camera technology, this inability to correctly render the same scene we are viewing, the photographer uses the restriction to render a representation of what is viewed. Art is the byproduct of such a decision.
click for larger view
Look to the light! Photographs are all about light! You, with your camera, are capturing light that has quite literally bounced off your subject and through your lens onto your film or sensor. Light is critically important in photography and photographers study it, intensely. I’m sure you know that light has different qualities, right? There is the warm yellow light of sunset, followed by the deep blue light after sunset. There’s hard intense light in the bright midday, and soft light of an overcast day. None of these is better or worse than the other, they will just create different moods and photographers use the light to create the moods they want. What mood do you want?
Learn a little about aesthetics of making photographic images. Intentional blur or limited depth of field (basically determining what is intentionally in, and out, of focus) go a long way toward
click for larger image
creating mood in an image and, interestingly, this is generally what moves us about an image: the mood. Images are a visual language and, although we can explain why an image is interesting to us, we are generally moved emotionally by an image first. Photographers tend to pay attention to the emotions and moods they are invoking. By the way, intentionally slow shutter speeds create blurs, and large apertures (small f-stop numbers) create shallow depths of fields with more out of focus regions in the frame.
Practice! I realize you may not have an interest in becoming an entrenched hobbyist photographer, but if your goal is to take some good images of your family (read: kids! pets!) and the wonderful vacations you take, you have chosen some of the most difficult subject matter to photograph. I know. I have two little ones and I am repeatedly surprised by how rapid they are, as well as how impatient, impulsive, and occasionally obstinate. Getting them to understand how important their cooperation is to creating that yearly calendar or Holiday card is no easy feat. I stand a much better chance of snagging a few good images if I have practiced and practiced and practiced.
Read up! There are many wonderful books available to learn more about photography but some of the best are the most simple. I learned the most from a series of ebooks created by World and Humanitarian Photographer, best selling author, and teacher David duChemin over at Craft and Vision. I particularly found “Ten”, “Ten More”, and “Drawing The Eye” extremely useful.

There, phew(!), that was a long one. I hope you’ve enjoyed my humble suggestions as well my encouragement to join me in capturing more of this beautiful world on film or in bits and bytes. I’ve come to love photography over the past few years and I hope you do to. In the meantime, while you and I both practice, I will also try to come to terms with my magic camera receiving all the credit.

Mar

2011

Many Thanks and the Artistic Influx

The other day, Friday to be precise, I took part in a gallery opening and moved along on my list of artistic goals for the year. It was all wildly reported here. And, as I had mused in that post, I came away inspired and motivated. There was some great work hung in the twenty or so pieces on show

Particularly touching was the group of friends that came by to lend support and see the work. A big thank you to all of you. You have touched my heart.

I came away from the show with a deep respect for the great diversity in styles both of photography and presentation. My interest in other people’s work has been buoyed, as has my interest in different presentation styles. I went with a straight matted print and frame approach for this show but came away with some creative ideas for future shows, either solo or shared. Of particular interest this time around were a pair of images printed on aluminum. The way the aluminum reflected the light and brought out the colors as well as the way they pop away from the wall really peaked my interest. I am currently musing about printing on this medium and discovered it is available through Bay Photo in San Francisco. Any thoughts about which of my images on my “Purchase” galleries might look good printed in this way?

So, once again, thank you so much for stopping by and for supporting this gallery opening. And thank you as well for all the inspiration. The gallery show will remain hung for 6 more weeks, until mid April, and is located in The Printmaker’s Studio at 425 San Matea NE in Albuquerque (the NE corner of Copper).