Early Saturday morning, sunshine reached tentatively through the blinds. Unable to light the room, it created soft patterns at the window that begged to be shot in black and white.Hopefully, the sun will regain her strength and reappear consistently.
Tag Archives: black and white photography
No one would seriously believe or accept me as a member of a roller derby team. I wish I could say it’s because of lack of daring or not being mean enough but, it’s really a matter of my age and physical condition ( or lack thereof). I mean, being born in New York I have my share of loud voice and get out of my face attitude. Unfortunately that’s not nearly enough so instead I go to watch. Sitting on the floor during a match takes what little guts and agility I have to move out of the way or end up at the bottom of the heap. I hope this is a partial excuse for the graininess of the photos. I think they’re more dramatic and urban this way. I have decided that what makes the skaters daring are their names, so I’ve been working on mine. At first, the list was lengthy, but you know when you find IT. I thought it might be Shop and Drop , Death by Digital, or Digital Diva, but it has to be Reality Check. Now I need to find the right clothes.
As I looked at this photo, the word shelter kept coming to mind. Long outreaching branches tangled with lacy Spanish Moss touch the ground. It would almost feel like hiding behind a mother’s skirt. Open and safe at the same time ,it is a curious combination. Often the places we seek shelter close us in and while trying to protect us, they become confining.It is a difficult balance to achieve both for ourselves and for those we love. How do we offer that listening ear or tender embrace without the advice, warnings and I told you so’s ? How do we know when the net or training wheels are no longer needed? Do we push ourselves to take chances and risk leaving our safe place, or continue to tell ourselves we aren’t quite ready yet ? Worse , do we keep our children close in fear that they will travel too far from us or realize that they don’t need us as often? Understanding that seeking shelter is a choice makes a difference. It’s a comfort to know one is available if there’s an emergency or time is needed to regroup. It’s reassuring that we can offer it to those in need, but at it’s best shelter needs to be defined and sought by the individual.
Power of a Photograph
A form of visual poetry –
In an unrehearsed dance between black and white.
If you can listen with your eyes,
The story hides in the shadows.
Where tricks of light
Make the obvious invisible,
Give substance to memory,
And place time in the palm of your hand.
Looking at this photo, you’d automatically respond – artist. He’s French ( met him in Nice) and looks his part. Of course it’s a stereotype and often what we picture in our minds is how we think we must be, if we’re to be taken seriously.Wear the smock, dress in wild colors or layers of layers, drink, smoke and party until a new day begins.I’m not sure that makes one an artist. Is it a matter of dress or demeanor? A suitcase full of fears or the ability to live with abandon? Is an artist the one who markets himself well? ( I must admit I did buy a watercolor from this man, but it really was fine!) Or is the artist the one who can look at the world in a unique way? Someone who can create something out of little? One who can hear music where there is a breeze and see art when there is shadow? Is there one right answer? Most likely , it’s a crazy quilt combination of attitudes and characteristics unique and shared that creates an artist. Just take a look in your mirror and you’ll see for yourself!
On a June walking trip through Cornwall, we spent a day exploring Penzance. One of my favorite characters was this biker outside a souvenir shop. Splendid in his skeleton suit, I tried to be as subtle as possible while shooting his photo. He did turn around and graciously posed for a portrait, but this remains my favorite shot.It could only be offered in black and white.
Driving along a main street in Paducah, Kentucky, I spied this garage. Surrounded by eighteen wheelers and because it was after five, I couldn’t resist exploring. The alphabet doors drew my attention. Although I didn’t find twenty-six, these intrigued my camera.