I am drawn to strong graphics and color, especially in plants or architecture. The subject matter by itself may be static and sterile at times but strong composition and a sense of movement in the lines can breathe life into a photograph and evoke pleasant emotions.
Yucca leaves are particularly fun to play with because of the rhythm of the repetitive sword-shaped leaves. Combined with a textured background in subtle shades of green, I find this image to be visually poetic and very striking.
My newest workshop is one that I think will be loads of fun and very illuminating:
“Holistic Photography: Finding Yourself in Your Art”
A photograph is the result of a three-way connection between the photographer, subject, and viewer. You can try to be objective but there will always be a part of yourself in your photos. You will inevitably bring your feelings, past experiences, and pre-conceived ideas to the relationship with your subject. From that relationship your own distinctive style eventually emerges.
This workshop is about identifying your own distinctive style, learning where it comes from and how to use it. We will also discuss ways to get yourself into a mental state that allows the best of yourself to shine in your art. As National Geographic photographer, Sam Abell, once said, “Who we are is the most important thing about photography”.
This two and a half hour class, held at the Albuquerque Photographers’ Gallery, is geared toward intermediate to advanced photographers who have been photographing long enough for a style to emerge. Participants should bring 8-10 prints of their favorite photos for in-depth evaluation.
Date: Wednesday, April 3rd, 2013, 6-8:30 PM.
Cost: $45 (plus NM Gross Receipts tax)
Limit: 10 participants
To sign up: http://www.abqphotographersgallery.com/ or call 505-244-9195
When you create a photograph, what is it that urges you to click the shutter at that moment? When purchasing a photograph in your favorite gallery, what is it about that image that called out to you and stopped you in your tracks?
Many people simply don’t know. It is that indefinable something that whispers in your ear so softly that only your subconscious can hear. Is it the composition or colors? Perhaps you felt a special connection to the subject of the photo. Whatever reason you come up with, it can probably be drilled down to the very core of what makes a great photograph. How it makes you feel. And because we all look at art through a different cultural and experiential lens, a single image can elicit a different visceral response from everyone who views it.
Take this photo, “Shaker Dreams”, as an example. What feelings does it evoke in you when you look at it? Does it make you feel nostalgic? Scared? Hopeful?
I’ve had a variety of responses to this photograph. Some people find it a bit scary. They don’t want to know what’s behind the door and the last thing they would want to do is climb those stairs to find out. Others are filled with hope and anticipation. They are bursting to know what is behind a door with such glorious light spilling through its window.
How does it make you feel?
It begins with a gentle lightening of the horizon. No more than a hint of what is to come. So subtle and gradual is the beginning that it is not always recognized for what it is. It could be the lights of a nearby town or the harsh beacons of a highway. It couldn’t be the dawn. Could it?
There is something magical about the moment when night changes to day. That precise moment is calculated and published in newspapers. The longest and shortest days are celebrated as solstices. Even birds become silent in reverence for that moment.
Then it pounces. Minute by minute the sky evolves and suddenly a new day is born. Each one begins in a different way. Sometimes it’s a symphony of light and shadow blending brush strokes of crimson and pink over a dark, dusky blue. Always changing, never waiting until the camera is in the right place, never hesitating for “just one more picture”.
And sometimes the dawning is cold and dreary. Black drains from the sky to reveal a gray, monochromatic world, as if it were veiled to the eye. Trees float into focus as the minutes silently pass.
When enough of the new light filters through, the day begins in earnest. The wind picks up, birds begin to sing, and people move about. Suddenly, it’s another day.
The dawning of the New Year has always been a time of hope, a new beginning. There is the feeling that no matter how dark and dismal the past has been this day is the first day of the rest of your life. It is a chance to start fresh. Past mistakes don’t count.
But why this day? Why do we not celebrate it on the first day of spring? Or on the day of the first new moon? The fact that different countries and religions celebrate it on different days tells us that it’s not the particular day that is important. It’s the feelings we associate with it. So wouldn’t it be nice if we made a fresh start every morning as the sun slips past the horizon to banish the dark corners of our lives?
Happy New Year. Happy new day.
I recently joined an organization called JAWS, which stands for Journalism & Women Symposium. The declaration on their website states: "JAWS supports the professional empowerment and personal growth of women in journalism and works toward a more accurate portrayal of the whole society."
The first local get-together I attended was great. (I call it a get-together because that's precisely what it was, rather than a formal meeting) I found mostly writers--in fact I think I was the only photographer. That's okay, though, because I consider myself a writer as well as photographer. It was wonderful to gather with a group of women in my field and compare notes. Even though the number of female reporters, editors and photographers is growing steadily, we are still not well represented in management. We still face the unique issues that men don't seem to worry about as much, such as juggling childcare with the crazy hours of a journalist, and being taken as seriously as our male counterparts by our bosses and the public. It is refreshing to have a group to talk to frankly about those issues and have them actually UNDERSTAND what I'm talking about.
I am on their mailing list and the latest topic was a call for quotes by female journalists. Here are a couple of my favorites:
“When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, "I used everything you gave me.”
--Erma Bombeck
"Networking is a primary way women discover that we are not crazy, the system is."
-– Gloria Steinem
"Women are in a double bind. If we talk like women we are not respected. If we talk like men, we are not liked."
-– Deborah Tannen
"Information is power and without it we can ‘t make the changes that we need in order to balance our work and family lives."
-– Judy Mann
“In journalism, there has always been a tension between getting it first and getting it right”
--Ellen Goodman
A little over a year ago I started this blog. I knew I had plenty to say and I knew I had the tenacity to keep it up, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to go another year. Here it is, decision time. I went back and read my first post, which I have included below, and it reminded me of why I wanted to do this in the first place. So now here I am, back to where I was last March. The same motivations that dogged me then are driving me to continue this blog. My hope is that others will enjoy it, but if not that's okay, because the act of doing it is helpful to me.
Inner Musings of a Thoughtful Photographer
I think too much. I don’t know if it’s a female thing, a personal thing or both. Probably both. I have thoughts and opinions about many things. I love thoughtful quotes. I love thinking about why people do the things they do and say the things they say. I love analyzing my own photography and looking for clues in them that may explain my motivations.
On the down side, thinking too much can drive me crazy. I can’t always control my thoughts. I sometimes wish I had an off switch to my brain. Maybe that’s why I like fairly mindless movies—mostly comedic—because I don’t have to think too much and it distracts me.
Sometimes thinking too much is a good thing. It gives me something to say. I’m almost never bored. I probably understand my work and myself a little more because of it. And I’ve always believed that what elevates photography to art is not the latest and greatest camera equipment, but simply the thought that goes behind the creation of a photograph.
So I know that sometimes I seem to be in my own little world and
hard to reach. I probably am. But here, with this blog, I can express
some of these thoughts as they relate to photography. Maybe by moving
those thoughts onto the computer screen, I can clear my own mind. After
twenty-seven years of working as a photojournalist I feel as if my head
is overflowing. Maybe by writing some of it down and sharing some
images, I can connect and help other thoughtful photographers make
sense of their own work.
______________________________________
When I look at this picture I think of my own childhood.
It sums up how I felt living and working in a world full of boys.
Always in my own little world, always dreaming, and always a little out of step.
It begins with a gentle lightening of the horizon. No more than a hint of what is to come. So subtle and gradual is the beginning that it is not always recognized for what it is. It could be the lights of a nearby town or the harsh beacons of a highway. It couldn’t be the dawn. Could it?
There is something magical about the moment when night changes to day. That precise moment is calculated and published in newspapers. The longest and shortest days are celebrated as solstices. Even birds become silent in reverence for that moment.
Then it pounces. Minute by minute the sky evolves and suddenly a new day is born. Each one begins in a different way. Sometimes it’s a symphony of light and shadow blending brush strokes of crimson and pink over a dark, dusky blue. Always changing, never waiting until the camera is in the right place, never hesitating for “just one more picture”.
And sometimes the dawning is cold and dreary. Black drains from the sky to reveal a gray, monochromatic world, as if it were veiled to the eye. Trees float into focus as the minutes silently pass.
When enough of the new light filters through, the day begins in earnest. The wind picks up, birds begin to sing, and people move about. Suddenly, it’s another day.
The dawning of the New Year has always been a time of hope, a new beginning. There is the feeling that no matter how dark and dismal the past has been this day is the first day of the rest of your life. It is a chance to start fresh. Past mistakes don’t count.
But why this day? Why do we not celebrate it on the first day of spring? Or on the day of the first new moon? The fact that different countries and religions celebrate it on different days tells us that it’s not the particular day that is important. It’s the feelings we associate with it. So wouldn’t it be nice if we made a fresh start every morning as the sun slips past the horizon to banish the dark corners of our lives?
Happy New Year. Happy new day.
Continuing on my recent theme of “Skin Deep” and “Looking beneath the Surface”, I would like to address the subject of race for a moment. This is a hot topic now thanks to Barack Obama’s candidacy for president.
Years ago I worked on a race relations project in Lexington, Kentucky. Two photographers and at least four reporters worked on this for six months or more. We spent time in a variety of neighborhoods—poor black, poor white, middleclass black, middleclass white and integrated. We were there to find out what people think and why they live where they live. It was an eye-opening experience. What I noticed was that where people had little contact with the other race, fear and misconception was heightened. Where different races lived and connected with one another, tolerance and “color-blindness” was heightened. This was not a scientific study, merely my own observations.
Now my big question where Obama is concerned is this: If he is half black and half white, why is he considered black? Why not white? He is, after all, equally both.
Maybe someday our population will be so mixed that we will no longer be black or white—merely American.
