From Far Away

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I have been away. Well, in a sense, that is the truth. I have always experienced illness and recovery in this way. While I am ill, as well as during the period when I am returning to full strength, I feel strangely disconnected from the real me. Even as I write these words, I am puzzling over that statement. After all, I’m not one to claim that I have ever had a firm handle on the real me. Perhaps more accurately, I am keenly aware of not feeling quite like anyone I recognize, during an illness. There have been occasions when a recovery period was dominated by massive bursts of creativity—bursts of activity that were out of character with what is more or less my norm. Still others have been deep troughs of non-productivity with nary a creative urge anywhere to be found. This little period of recovery from something relatively minor certainly has fallen in the latter category. I imagine that may be partly because I realize that I am storing energy for the next recovery that, I now know, will begin next week.

I do know that I am doing well because, if nothing else, I am having much better dreams. The feverish nightmare about the giant beetle-type bug that cornered me by glaring with huge malevolent yellow eyes gave way, a few nights later, to a soothing dream of enormous spring flowers that had sprung up all over our property during the night. I was happily looking forward to photographing the lavender blossoms, when I awoke to see the frost on the ground. I sure wish I knew where to find those flowers. They were unlike anything I have ever seen while awake. A promise for spring?

I also know how well I am doing because I am busy getting everything prepped to allow me a few days of sitting or lying like a vegetable without having everything here go to hell in a hand basket. Lots of mundane chores, on top of some of those usual errand-running trips to Bakersfield and LA, are in the offing.

I still begin to droop around three o’clock in the afternoon, but each day I am more ready for this surgery and a record-rapid recovery. Meanwhile, those creative juices are stewing somewhere deep in my consciousness and who knows what will happen this spring. I do know that The Husband planted daffodil bulbs. Whoopee. I won’t even have to leave the property to appreciate the cheerful yellow blooms that make Bear Valley Springs so colorful and offer a welcome glimpse of spring. Moreover, I am certain that I look forward to much more exploration of speedlites for supplementing natural light.

Soon, I—whoever that may be—will be back.

Temporary Arrangements

First of all, my sincere appreciation to all of you who have dropped by to say hello and send good wishes. Your messages cheered me immensely, and I am grateful to each of you for helping to feel that I am still connected to the conversation.

This type of post is getting to be a habit, but I can promise that it won't last forever. I am speaking of days on end without a word, followed by short posts without photos.

Unfortunately, my body is not the only thing in my life that is operating at less than full steam; I have been without an Internet connection for some time now. Thank goodness for The Husband's computer and his generosity in sharing. None of this is meant to insinuate that I could put up any posts worth visiting even with a connection to the web, but I might have done a tad better than my sorry showing over the past few weeks. I hope to get the Internet connection back today or tomorrow. As of tomorrow midday, I am done with the antibiotic and that should mean fewer days of being marginally dysfunctional. Furthermore, this week is about surgeon-shopping and that experience should be behind me by the end of this month, or at least early February. It seems likely that I will be particularly appreciative of Spring this year.

I am deeply grateful that everything about this stage of recovery is going as well as it is, and optimistic about soon having all this behind me. Normally, a voracious reader and viewer, as well as compulsive-learning machine I have been spending hours with eyes at half -mast and even taking naps! You have no idea how few naps I have taken in my life. My mother learned early on that there would be no mid-day relief for her. Tucking me into bed for a quiet nap was not an option. She would be shocked to know that I have actually nodded off a few afternoons. Furthermore, I have watched more stupid television in the last three weeks than I had viewed in the previous three years. We all know that television more or less washes over you, requiring little or no engagement. Embarrassing as it is to admit, that has been just my speed. Escapism of the cheapest sort.

Oh, well, this thing hasn't qualified as awful by any one's standards and it will be over soon. Moreover, as bad as the timing was for this, there are even some positive aspects to that angle. We have had a good deal of rain (not ideal for walks), and I am already looking forward to this year's crop of wild flowers. We should have a wonderful display this year. Can't get much more cheerful than that. Bring on the poppies and long walks.

Happy New Year

Happy, happy New Year to all!!

May 2010 hold unimagined blessings

for you and your family.

Back From My Christmas Adventure

This time I really was off on an adventure, and I will tell about some of the good parts later.

I had been feeling really rotten for about a week and on Christmas Eve our treat was a trip to the Emergency Room in Bakersfield. Not a fun place to wait for Santa, I'll tell you.

I am much better now, but exhausted. It's 2:20 PM and I'm tired. That stinks.

I may have stories about some of the wonderful people I met, but no photos. The Husband knew that I was really in pain because I wasn't taking any pictures and didn't want to take a camera with me when we headed to Bakersfield.

I felt bad about not posting a Merry Christmas message here. I did have good intentions. And, yes, I know which road is paved with that exact material.

I hope everyone had a jolly good holiday. My spirits were lifted by all the marvelous people who took such good care of me. They all worked through Christmas with such great cheer. Along with all the lousy jerks we hear about on the news who do their best to make "human being" a pejorative term, there are so many lovely people in the world. I was blessed to land in a whole nest of the loveliest, just when I needed them most.

Travels

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You might say that I have been traveling the last couple of weeks. But, in my case, not the sort of traveling that probably first came to mind. Yes, there have been the usual one-day errand-runs to Bakersfield and Los Angeles—journeys to the city to stock up on on various and sundry types of supplies—but, most of my time has been spent on excursions of another type altogether.

The photo here represents one of those departures. Back when I was living in Los Angeles, I occasionally took on assignments to photograph people and their horses. This wasn’t a regular thing, since I was working full-time running the acting studio; but, it was quite satisfying when I found someone I really wanted to work with. With so much to photograph here in Bear Valley Springs, I had thought that I wouldn’t miss that part of my photography. I reasoned that with our horses never really out of sight here, I would be more than happy just taking pictures of them and I wouldn't need to make pictures of other people and their horses.

I was wrong. It turns out that I miss recording those stories about that relationship between human and animal. Finally, I dipped a toe in the water, and now that I have done a couple of these sessions, I am eager to further explore the possibilities.

And, yes, I continue to spend huge chunks of my waking hours in an exploration of lighting with speedlights. Talk about fun! I am having a blast. My test photos are not something I want to post on my blog—or anywhere else for that matter. I now own North Amerca’s most photographed teddy bear, and I have taken pictures of The Husband that I could publish only if I didn’t value my life. Nevertheless, I am learning and no longer intimidated by terms such as ETTL, channels, groups, and ratios. Moreover, shocking as it is to me, sections of my 580EX flash are beginning to make sense to me.

Anyone who has read more than five posts on my blog has picked up on the fact that I am more than a little obsessive, somewhat disturbingly moody, and totally unreliable. Consistency and steadiness with communication are not part of my profile. Therefore, I’m confident that most folks realized when I disappeared that Anita was simply off on some tangent again. I always feel a little guilty about not at least posting a note to all my blog-world friends whose fellowship I so much enjoy. At the very least, I could have put up some type of note—at least “Gone fishing” or something, but the fog had invaded my brain and, as is often the case in these situations, I was totally tongue-tied.

Happy Thanksgiving, Everyone!

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May you have an abundance of blessings for which to give thanks.

Still Life Photos in My Future

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Wow. I surely do know where to go for counseling the next time we have a houseguest. When I think of how much less work would have been involved! No. Wait. All that advice was from guys. Hmm. Maybe I should get some advice from some females to balance things out.

Here is the truth. I need something like a houseguest to put an axe over my head. I do want to eventually get fully moved in. But, there are always pictures to be made; something new to learn; experiments to be pursued; tutorials to study; material to read. What is a person to do? Now, thanks to The Husband’s niece, we are a little closer to being settled in and making this a home.

But, you had better believe that the minute the door closed behind The Houseguest, the B&H box came out. The dust behind the three-horse trailer she was pulling hadn’t settled over the driveway, before I had gotten the STE2 transmitter on the 50D.

I spend the next two days making dozens of test shots. More dead batteries. I’m slow. In the time it took to get the photo of the vegetables remotely close to what was in my head, a second bridge over Oakland Bay could have been built. Even after all those tries, the photograph still needed some clean up (should have done more) from the light spills that I failed to control, and the final product didn’t match up to my mental picture.

But, it’s that persistence thing. Eventually, I will work my way closer and closer to a grasp of how this stuff works. Ray K recommended a book to me that is bound to make its way into my Christmas stocking, and I continue finding helpful articles online. Expect to put up with more still life photos sprinkled among the landscapes and pictures of the horses—especially as winter settles in here. I can watch the snow fall while I take tons of pictures and keep my feet warm as toast. Sounds like a good plan. I stay comfy, and it sure beats tackling those last couple of rooms that need to be done.

Camera Gear and Character Development

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The Houseguest was due Thursday afternoon. The package from B&H arrived at 2:30 PM. Dutifully, I parked the unopened box of adventure in the studio and finished my last minute chores. The next two hours was about temptation. It took a will of iron, but I emerged from the struggle victorious. I am proud of myself.

You see, I knew that waiting inside that box was a Canon STE transmitter along with another light stand and umbrella bracket. Once I ripped through that cardboard, I would enter the next phase of my lighting education. It took stern reminders through the next two hours to resist reaching for the box opener. Why did I resist? I knew that once I opened that box, I would be long gone. The place would, once again, be a mess and I would be totally distracted until long after our guest left. I might not even have noticed her arrival, and that wouldn’t have made any points with The Husband.

So, I waited.

Delayed gratification builds character, right? It darn sure better do something good for me.

Houseguest

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Houseguest. Do you have any idea what terror that word instills in the heart of a woman who isn’t great with housework. You know, forgets the dusting on a regular basis? On Sunday evening, The Husband casually announced, “By the way, my niece is arriving on Thursday. She will be taking off sometime Friday.” Yikes. Not long enough to fully register how dysfunctional this place still is, but definitely long enough to see the dust and notice a couple of rooms that clearly look as though someone is in the midst of either moving in, or moving out.

But, I just dusted a week ago. How did the place get so dusty, so fast? Whine. As for the boxes and clutter in those couple of rooms, I want a big banner that stretches all the way across the living room reading, “It’s about my bad back.” But, that isn’t the whole story. The truth is, it’s also about those cameras.

Hmm. Maybe I should have just wored with what I'm good at and gone for a new style of decorating. I’ll have to work out the details later, but I’m getting images of frames (empty and with some with prints) stacked everywhere—leaning against every piece of furniture. Cameras and lenses on pretty much every flat surface. Prints of every possible size stuck on the sides of anything and everything. Stacks of cables, lens caps, printing paper, camera batteries strewn about—artfully, of course. I may call it Photographer’s Grunge Chic. Hey, why not turn part of the kitchen into a darkroom. That would produce tons of chaos. No, wait. I don’t have a film camera, much less film. Still, what’s to stop me from buying a few rolls of film and stringing it here and there for garland? The place wouldn’t be clean, but it would clearly explain the reason behind the dust and clutter. Feel free to toss in your submission for an alternative name, as well as your own variations of this style.

I’m not certain that The Husband will be on board for this. I think I’ll continue dusting and cleaning, just in case. See ya.

Living with My Photography Critic

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Paul Butzi recently wrote about taking pictures when you have no idea why you are tripping the shutter. I hope Paul won’t mind, if I jump on the bandwagon and sing a few verses of “Me, too”.

I still have an enormous amount to learn about photography (it pains me to think how much), but I am getting more and more satisfaction from it. And, that is true partly because I am trusting myself more to differentiate between occasions that are predominately study periods and those that are more about simply doing. Yes, of course those lines are blurred, but from one outing to another—or from one portion of an outing to another, there is shift in emphasis. There are occasions when I am mostly intent on learning a new technique—drilling basics into my thick skull, and sometimes I am just playing scales.

But, if I want to feed the passion, I need to have times when I simply do what I do as best I can at that moment and trust that six weeks from now, a year from now, my skills will have improved. That is, they will improve, if I keep doing this and paying attention to what works as well as what doesn't. I just have to be certain that I am paying that attention after the fact, not using it as a club over my head while I am photographing.

Long ago, I noticed that a great percentage of my photographs that I like best—on those rare and special days that I like any of them—are those that I took while shooting out of my mind. Even in the early stages when I knew almost nothing, a surprising number of the images that showed progress had been taken when something somewhat surprised me, I raised the camera, and clicked the shutter before I had time to think my way through the image.

Now, more and more, I am giving in to the impulse to shoot with abandon. I am learning that what catches my eye—and my heart—is most often a fleeting moment. By the time I think about it, the moment and the magic are gone. The more I study the scene, the more certain the best moments will escape me. If I get bogged down in analyzing, I trip the switch and activate the nasty voice in my head that nags, “That light is never going to work.” “Better look again. Is this framed properly?” “You didn’t check your exposure you are just going to delete this. You’re wasting time.” Some days the voice is particularly insistent. But, I am gradually training the nagger to speak when spoken to, leaving me to place increasing trust in my gradually improving skills and my intuition.

Of course, I’m not merely wandering about drooling and hoping that wonderful things will pop up in front of my camera and that my muse will always whisper “Now” at the ideal moment. I am comfortable inviting my intellect to take charge, or at least participate, if it honestly seems the best way to solve a problem. But, for better or for worse, I go about my photography, at least part of the time, trusting that when I have no clue as to why my shutter finger twitches at a specific instant—much less what is filling the frame, I don’t ask questions. I just let go and enjoy the moments.

After all, that nagging critic in my head represents the part of me that can be paralyzed by the specter of failure. The message behind all that nagging is “Don’t take chances. Work cautiously. Play it safe. Don’t prove you are a loser.”

When I tell the critic to take some time off, I have a grand time and sometimes there is a bonus. I may make more mistakes, but I also make more pictures that I like. Not a bad bargain for trusting myself and following impulses. I wouldn’t recommend it for crossing streets, or choosing life partners. But, I think following impulses can be a swell idea, when you have a camera in your hand.