Photography Thinks
If birds of different feathers can get together, all of us should be able to. I wonder if they even know the difference. Like, when an English Bulldog comes up to an Irish Setter, does he know they each possess opposite character traits. How about these birds. If one tweets, does the other understand? Does the white bird avoid the black bird, because of color?
Let’s start off with the easy question: why do they call it a “restroom”? The next question: how do you make the final decision about what to read when you sit to shit?
Walking down the street near the Norton Museum of Art after an art date, I saw this tree glistening in the late afternoon sunlight. After a few minutes, it started to talk to me. Art always talks to me, especially after seeing some masters. https://petapixel.com/2023/10/13/talking-to-trees-photographing-the-expressive-nature-of-trees/
The show featured impressionists, including Cezanne, Soutaine, Degas and Van Gogh. They came from the Pearlman Collection at Princeton, a collection amassed by a guy with taste and imagination and money, although he said not enough. He liked artists who were on a mission to find themselves
I see Chaim Soutaine in my tree.
I remember picking up the bats and feeling older than my 10 years. I was just a boy. Still am.
Wonder if any are still alive. My brother isn’t.
My father was an asst coach. He isn’t in the photo, because he took it.
Be careful when you go to the vegetable aisle. Serpents lurk among the yams.
We lost a bromeliad this year which Sam planted 7 years ago. It just fell over and died. The garden design was perfect, so we just had to replace it. Bromeliads, air plants/grapefruits, produce one flower and then die. Sam put in the original plant. With his green thumb, I hope this one lasts as long and brings as much joy to us and our humble garden.
In photo school, they teach or try to teach creativity. Look around as you walk. Find natural frames. Examine the landscape. Imagine. Use technical skills. Breathe. Shoot. Move on without chipping.
I do and I did, without their help. I see with my eye without regard to what I think others will see, feel or want to know. I just have a feeling sometimes. Upon return to my studio, I download. Voila.
Now, why did I make this image?
He loved to paint. Something moved him. More than creative. Misunderstood. Loved in death. Ignored in life. Lucky for him he had friends who sat for him and plants that grew for him. He painted himself a lot when he couldn’t find sitters. I can relate to that.
Basel cell carcinoma. Don’t matter if you wear a hat. Well maybe it does if the brim is wide enough. Baseball caps don’t protect enough. But the removal isn’t so bad. Needles. A little scraping and cutting. Plastic surgery to leave no trace. Heals in a week. Be careful out there.
Hey, all of you out there. Missed a lot of life. Still got some more to do, not that anyone would care.