Janet Worne - Thoughtful Photography

Arcadian Landscape

I was sitting in a small restaurant with a view of Mont St Michel in the North of France, having the most delicious lamb dish. Hearing a commotion outside I turned to see hundreds of sheep (and lambs) being herded through town. Right then and there, I resolved to: a) come back the next evening at the same time to photograph the scene, and b) never eat lamb again.

Arcadia is the mythological home of Pan and pastoral paradise represented in poetic fantasy. This scene, with sheep kicking up dust in the shadow of a medieval abbey on the coast of Normandy, is my idea of a poetic fantasy.

Monument Valley

Every photographer should experience Monument Valley Navajo Tribal Park sometime in their lives. Located in Utah, this park is a magnificent spread of red rock formations. The official Tribal website describes the history:

"Natural forces of wind and water that eroded the land spent the last 50 million years cutting in to and peeling away at the surface of the  plateau. The simple wearing down of altering layers of soft and hard rock slowly revealed the natural wonders of Monument Valley today."

The most famous view is from the visitor's center where you can view The Mittens (above) and the vast expanse of the surrounding landscape.

But don't stop there. Be sure to drive into the park as well.

You may need to clean your camera sensor afterward, though, as the wind can be strong. On this day it blew sand and dirt everywhere and allowed me to try out a few new hairstyles!

I took this picture of The Three Sisters through a very dirty windshield.

A well-timed visit means being there at sunset (along with other photographers) for the dramatic colors.

Well worth the trip.

Playful Photography

My photos are a result of my relationship with the subject. Sometimes the relationship is fleeting and somewhat one-sided and sometimes protracted and mutual. At times it is contentious and other times, playful.

While in Milan, it was my intention to get back to the Duomo after dinner in time for the best light. But I could see the golden light fading as we approached. I felt deflated and stood in front of the ornate cathedral in frustration, wondering "what do I do now?" That's when a something red to the right of the Duomo caught my eye.

It was "Toy Building N. 1", a futuristic sculpture created by Italo Rota and temporarily installed in the piazza. Okay, this was cool. I love contrasts and this modern, red, odd shape will frame the centuries-old cathedral nicely.

But then the sky darkened and the sculpture lit up and glowed and became the subject.

Then I played with both shapes equally, playing off the contrasts...

That was when I noticed the mirrors in the sculpture and a soundscape surrounded me with indescribable noises that lent a weird sense of disorientation to the scene. At this point I found myself grinning broadly and probably laughed out loud a couple of times.

The night ended as I turned away from the Duomo entirely and took one last shot of the sculpture before tearing myself away.

I love it when I have a playful experience with photography. In those moments I find it very easy to slip into that Zen state where time doesn't exist.

Italian Magic

We can talk about color vs. black and white, we can talk about composition and we can talk about higher meaning. But the bottom line in photography is always light. It is the light that we chase. It is the dull, flat light that turns us off and the magical, golden light that sends the chills down our spines.

Somehow, I found the light in Italy extra special. Even in the middle of the day. I wondered what it could be. Was my perception colored by the affection I have for the place? When I critique portfolios, I caution young photographers not to be blinded by celebrities or foreign subjects. Just having those subjects in a photo does not make a good photo. It must also have the other qualities of a good photo.

After giving it some thought I decided it was because the light bounces around the ancient buildings and reflects off the subtle colors of the plaster. Another reason may be that I am inspired by the things I see and feel while I am there so that I am more receptive to capturing these images.

Whatever the reason, I am thankful.

The Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II in Milan was an exercise in sensory overload for a photographer:

A reflecting pool in the Castello Sforzesco in Milan was a bit more restful:
As was this courtyard, also in the Castello:

The Torre del Mangia in the Piazza del Campo in Siena glows red in the evening:

And an early morning shaft of light caught a pedestrian's yellow bag in the Piazza della Repubblic in Florence:

Italian Abstraction

Sometimes you take a photo not because of some deeper meaning, or because it is a classic scenic that accurately represents the place you are visiting--sometimes you see something that strikes you as funny, or graphically interesting.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

A binocular viewer on top of the Castello Doria tower in Vernazza--kind of reminds me of the Wall-e character:

Another face in Vernazza, this one in an alley:

An overhead view of boats in Vernazza:

In Corniglia, hard lines of the tracks contrast with the sea:

And window reflections add a touch of the surreal at the Castello Sforzesco in Milan:

Art of the Faithful

Italy is a land of deep faith and Christianity has been driving that faith for thousands of years. This is reflected in much of their art and many of history's greatest artists produced work of a religious nature.

And of course there is no escaping this spiritual presence when photographing Italy.

A painting in San Lorenzo Church in Manarola glowed from the prayer candles:

Chiesa di San Cristoforo in the Piazza Tolomei, Siena:

More statuary I haven't identified in Siena:

At the Santuario di Santa Caterina where we stayed, also in Siena:

And in Florence, angels watch over the Duomo Baptistry, Santa Maria del Fiore:

The Colors of Cinque Terre

Cinque Terre is a string of five fishing villages nestled into the rocky cliffs of the Ligurian coast. It is part of the Italian Riviera. What distinguishes this area, apart from the fact that they have no roads connecting them--only a train line and a hiking path--are the distinctive pastel colors of the clustered buildings that form each village. As a photographer and artist at heart, I was moved by the shades of colors before me. Long forgotten labels from an old box of crayola crayons sufaced in my mind--salmon, persimmon, moss, jade, coral, and goldenrod. (I always wondered who had that fun job of making up the names of colors.) And the way the colors looked against the black rock and blues of the Ligurian sea made me go weak at the knees.

I soon found out that what I was swooning over was no mistake. According to Rick Steves' travel guide, “These days the ‘Ligurian pastel’ colors are regulated by a commissioner of good taste in the regional government.” My first reaction was to chuckle. It reminded me of a Monty Python skit. (Ministry of Silly Walks?) Then I realized it was no different from our neighborhood associations with all of their regulations about what colors you can paint your houses. I never liked the idea of living in those kind of places. But as I scrambled around Cinque Terre shooting photo after photo, I was glad the commissioner had such good taste in colors.

In Vernazza, where we stayed:

Also in Vernazza, a detail of a building where some of the old surface remains unpainted:

In Riomaggiore, I found color in dark winding alleys:

...and on a church bell tower:

Manarola, like all but one of the villages, sits right on the sea:

Happy Mother's Day

As we made our way through Italy we always felt safe and nurtured. For at nearly every turn there was the Mother Mary watching over us. In this country, the image of Madonna is everywhere. Many of the icons are old and yet have been honored with fresh flowers. These are not relics from previous generations to be passed by in modern life and ignored. They are still very much a part of their world today.

Mothers will always be an important part of any society.

I found her image on a wall along a mountain path in Vernazza:

...in a painting flanked by some scary looking light fixtures in Siena:

...watching over a Siena souvenir shop:

...guarding the gates of a castello in Chianti:

...and in a sun-dappled Florence alley:

People Watching in Italy

I am a Watcher by nature as I've admitted before and Italy is a great place for people watching. Since I was a tourist, many of my destinations were populated mostly with other tourists but I did have the opportunity to observe the natives as well. I found them to be friendly and not particularly camera-shy.

Why the fascination with other people? For me, it's not the differences I look for but rather, the things we have in common. The little things I can relate to in another human being. On the surface we may not be able to speak the same language, we may have different skin color, we may not dress the same, our food preferences may be polar-opposite, but there is always some fundamental human emotion or condition to which I can relate. I may only connect with the person from afar by watching and responding internally to their body language or we may bond with a smile and a wave.

These restaurant workers in Florence rewarded me with a smile and "Buon Giorno!" while taking a break from their job:

The body language of two young lovers who came out to the Ponte Vecchio in Florence for some evening entertainment is universal and easily understood:

Two young girls sat in front of a butcher shop in Siena to rest and play with their cameras:

Sometimes I cannot help but to connect a person in an abstract way to their surroundings as well as sympathize with the body language--like this woman's obvious back pain as she leans on her cane in Montorosso al Mare:

Meanwhile, at the beach in Montorosso al Mare, a tourist soaked in the sun:

...while two others danced in the surf:

Airing Italian Laundry

While graffiti is one fascination that seemed mostly confined to the larger cities in Italy, hanging laundry out to dry appears to be a tradition favored by the smaller towns. I enjoy photographing these offbeat domestic vignettes, not because I have a thing for underthings, but because I am drawn to scenes where the new and old collide. In the cases shown here that may be an understatement since in Siena many of the buildings date back to the 12th and 13th century and the laundry--well who knows how long they leave it out but it couldn't be nearly that long. I did see some hanging out in pouring rain so it would take days or more to dry.

If I wanted to go deeper and talk philosophy, I might say that there is something endearing about these people who "air their laundry" or open up some part of their private lives to us without shame or embarrassment. (Perhaps that's why blogs have become so popular...)

But mostly, I am drawn to the aesthetics of the scenes, both in the juxtaposition of soft fabric against the rough stone and also the color or bright whites against the buildings.

Corniglia's winding back streets displayed domestic treasures:

In Siena I found dark blue clothing against lighter walls:

...and one lone pair of undies against an ancient dark wall: