Sunday, October 5, 2008

Foggy Mornings and Brighter Days

(Please click on the thumbnail to view the larger version)

Whudda thunk
that it would take fog to help clear the fog? That statement is a bit of an exaggeration, but it's true that a different type of challenge in shooting (photographing scenes shrouded in fog) has been a major contributor to helping me break free of my creative block—at least temporarily. Anyone who has been at this photography thing a long time knows, far better than I, that this is one of the accepted solutions for getting un-stuck.

I don't take credit for being smart enough to employ that technique. Rather, I can thank a splendid convergence of forces, namely unfamilar-to-me foggy mornings and a subject on the minds of the two Pauls (I linked to their posts a couple of days ago) and Amy Sakurai. The thoughts expressed and the images displayed spurred my curiousity and I began experimenting. Ultimately, a couple of the shots lured me into one of those digital darkroom sessions, where I became curious about split-toning, a technique I have played with on only rare occassions.

As enamored as I am with my possible relationship with fog (now that I live in a valley in the mountains, fog is unlikely to remain unfamiliar), there are other conditions where the haze may be lifing. It is looking more as if we may sell our house in Los Angeles and that means we have a possibility of being able to stay here.

I have already confessed that I do not take to a lifestyle that doesn't include roots. I went through that period early in life and found that it didn't suit me. I crave roots. These last few weeks have been a bit disorienting and not just because the scenery is new. Physically, this is a beautiful place to live. Whatever direction I turn, there are scenes that lift my spirit and speak directly to my dyed-in-the-wool western heart. Yet even while I drink in the wide open space, I have struggled to hold back and resist falling too much in love, in case we aren’t able to stay here. I fall in love easily, I like falling in love. But, this time I had too much of an investment, and I haven't had the courage to risk falling in love only to say another good-bye so soon.


  1. What a way to come back, Anita! That is a beautiful image. As for love, I like to fall in love, too. :-) Give it all that you've got. You'll be able to stay! Pour your heart into it; You've already started to do it as I can see!

  2. Paul - I am delighted that you enjoy this one. It was one of those "Surprise!" shots. I was outside looking for trees and such, when this moment presented itself.

    As for love and all, I am optimistic as we trudge through the stacks of paperwork and begin the countdown (escrow) tomorrow. It would be difficult to not fall in love with this place.

  3. As a romantic, I think falling in love is a good thing – even when loss is likely. I guess heartache is also fuel for this poet and photographer. Anyway, I hope you don’t have to lose what you love – or will love soon.

    And good for you for exploring the fog -- and bringing back treasures from the morning mist!

  4. Amy - Clearly this is one of the things we have in common—being romantic. The "look" of my photography is just one of the areas where that mind-set is obvious.

    You bring up an interesting topic:

    "falling in love is a good thing – even when loss is likely"

    That is one thing I notice about changes in my outlook as I age. That scenario—loving and losing—was easier when I was younger. I don't seem to have quite the tolerance for it that I once had. I am working on keeping my outlook young, by remembering that level of tolerance for pain that I had and fostering more of it today.


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