Additions

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Where the heck have I been? You know what I have been up to and you are not at all surprised that I am working at preparing for this show as though Heaven and Earth depended upon it. I figure if I am going to do it, I may as well go all out.

Meanwhile, the rest of life has not stood still. The Husband's quest for answers regarding the gray gelding's back has yielded little results. The man can't be faulted for not trying. Near the end of his imagination, resources, and patience, he got a phone call a couple of days ago that added a bit more chaos to our lives.

A fellow farrier called, while we were on the road, and said he had a lead for Jim on a great prospect of a horse. To make a long story short, the fellow above arrived at our place Saturday afternoon. Lancer and Night were terribly excited about the stranger on their property. The animal was touching their things and eating their carrots! What an insult. But, they were deeply curious. Naturally, the gelding's arrival had to be documented.

There will be more information about our new addition in the weeks to come and I will probably steal a few minutes here and there for some more photos. His registered name is Ground Zero. It seems he was born on September 11, five years ago. The name is appropriate, but neither of us can handle the sound of it—too many unpleasant memories. So far, the young gelding is simply "The Black". We didn't think Walter Farley would mind.  

Blue Horse and Other Dreams

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These days, I am not only dreaming about blue horses, but all the art show deadlines on my calendar.  A framed print of the blue horse above sold in October and will be part of the next show on the horizon.

At the end of this month, I will be part of the Bear Valley Springs Cultural Arts Spring Show. Of course, any sane person would simply have filled in the entry form with names of pieces currently hanging on the walls in our house and that would have completed my preparation. However, that sane part would describe someone else. Certainly not me. Instead of taking the easy path, I am working on something new for this show that has raised a whole bucket-load of questions and new challenges. I won't get into details until I know that it either has worked or turned into a flop. I am sane enough to have provided myself with a backup in case this experiment fails. You can bet that I will eventually let you know how the experiment goes.

Each artist is limited to five pieces and for this show I have decided to go with all equine prints. With the publishing of this post, you will have seen all the images to be used for the show. When I get closer to the show, I will publish a link to the five pieces and let you see my portion of the big annual show and social event here in Bear Valley Springs.

You can get more background on the horse above, how this piece evolved, and how it is displayed at Anita Jesse.

The Power of the Pen

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My recent distraction can be blamed partly on my early Valentine gift and what it set in motion. Nothing against roses, but this present beat flowers all to heck.

For a long time, I have flirted with the idea of getting a Wacom tablet. The masks I paint for my serious work are maddening and I was reasonably certain the pen would save me a great deal of time. Still, I dragged my feet over the cost and a couple of other doubts. One, I have been using a mouse for about thirty years now and wasn't sure how quickly I would adapt. Second, the problems with my right hand caused me some concern. The recent surgery took care of both instances of trigger finger, but I still get cramps in that hand—in a different part of my hand, curiously enough. I didn't know how long I would be able to hold the pen without a problem.

Finally, I stopped stalling and told The Husband I had decided what I wanted for Valentine this year. When I put in my request, he said it sounded like something I should get right away. Well, I'm no fool and took him up on the offer. It was pretty much love at first sight. I wouldn't say that I am already one hundred percent efficient with the pen; but, I can definitely say that it is a winner in my book.

Sure enough, I have to limit my time with the pen. Early on, I got one of those cramps because I got a little carried away. But, no problem. I am quite content doing all my set-up work with the mouse and just using the pen for finishing work. "Finally", you are probably saying. You are right. It is a little embarrassing to admit it took me so long.

The piece above (also posted at my business site) was the first piece I worked on with the pen and I am now a confirmed Wacom fan. Jump on over to Anita Jesse for the non-techie story on this piece.

Gremlins, Surprise Sales, and Such

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The guest who arrived the day family departed was one of my ex-students. She is an absolute delight and we were so pleased that she took time out of her busy trip to California to spend some of it with us. As noon last Wednesday approached—her scheduled time to hit the road, she announced that she needed a few minutes to browse through my prints once again. I was thrilled that she wanted to spend a few more minutes with my work and I encouraged her take her time with her final tour. After all, her energy was a tonic for us and I hated to see her leave.

She moved slowly from one viewing section to another, hall to room to another hallway, then said, "I brought one blank check with me just on a whim." I didn't grasp the meaning of the sentence and how it connected with her tour of the prints. It turned out she wanted to buy a framed print. I was taken aback, but obviously pleased at the turn of events.

After considerable deliberation, she returned again to the image above (repeated posting here), and said that she couldn't resist the one with the gremlin on his back. I chuckled because when I completed that piece, I hadn't a single thought about gremlins. Then Steve Weeks (Steve doesn't have a blog to link to. Wish he did) posted a comment and asked about the creature on the horse's back. Well, of course, since that time, I can't not see the beast. How I ever missed it is now beyond me.

After Steve's comment,  my first impulse, frankly, was to fix it. I seriously considered reworking the piece immediately, reprinting, and ridding the  horse of his gremlin burden. But, the more I thought about it the more I knew it wasn't the right thing to do. That gelding has had a demon on his back for years. He was, apparently, mistreated as a youngster and never fully regained his trust in humans. He was a one-woman horse. You could easily sense the wildness in him. Since I have often talked about allowing my subconscious mind to play its role in my creative life, it seemed quite hypocritical to deny all that by throwing out something that made it all the way to print and show without my conscious mind ever catching on. To deny my work philosophy along with the horse's story and erase these influences after the fact didn't ring true. Ultimately, I let the work stand.

It seemed fitting that there was surprise to complete the strange story of this image. The last thing on my mind while our charming guest was with us was art sales. Her purchase was a delicious surprise and I shouldn't have been shocked that she chose a piece that had already offered some surprises.

Update: The material in this post (with slight revisions) is currently posted at my Fine Art Prints blog.

A Cloud of Dust

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I love watching a horse just turned out and eager to work out the kinks. Here, Night was feeling especially good and relishing every moment of his freedom. You can almost hear him snorting and whistling as he kicked up the dust—coiling and uncoiling those muscles, celebrating his power.

When I work on an image such as this one, I always think of Mark Graf, since he has mentioned on numerous occasions revisiting images. This is one of those that I shot years ago and have always known that eventually I would know what I wanted to do with it. Finally, in late last year, I could see this one and knew where I wanted to go with it. In the past, I wasted a great deal of time worrying an image, attempting to force it to give up its secrets. Over time, I finally found the patience to interrupt these struggles, listen, and discover, finally, what is locked inside an image. It is amusing to me that when I finally have found my way, I can't imagine why I didn't see it all along.

As usual I have gotten myself into all sorts of things in the last couple of weeks. To top off the distraction angle, we have a houseful of guests arriving in just over a week. During my nasty cold, I let the house devolve into chaos and now it is catch-up time. As if that weren't enough, I have been on a roller coaster with my back: getting dramatically better; no, snapped back into deep mind-numbing pain. I stubbornly cling to optimism about this all being a positive sign. I went for a walk about a week ago and, while I could barely put one foot in front of the other by the time I got back to the backyard gate, it was exhilarating and I can't wait to do it again. I am determined to improve during this coming year.

I can't blame all of my absence on pain, house cleaning and rehab. My recent distraction is partly due to the influence of Roberta Murray. I caught on immediately to the fact that Roberta is a very smart lady. Thus, when she mentioned an article on art marketing, I ran to the site and was almost immediately hooked. I have been soaking up information and not giving anything back. That is nothing to brag about. My fascination isn't just with the articles about selling. Many of my favorites are about painting techniques and, since I never studied painting, my mind has been awhirl with some new-to-me and wondrous information, as well as some validation of my own blundering discoveries. Thank you, Roberta.

Of course, there is always something going on in the computer department. Recently, The Husband and I spent one fun afternoon, rewiring the maze of cables under my desk. Oh, boy, that was a fun time. It was well worth the effort, however, because I have better access to some switches and little things such as this simplification can make a big difference.

Although I have only scratched the surface, I will resist the effort to talk about all the things I have cooking now—such as working feverishly on some new pieces. Instead, I will save the rest of my jabbering for another day.

An Invitation and a Link

Whew! Do my eyes look puffy? Can you tell I haven't been getting much rest? What a few days this has been.

Since I had almost nothing on my plate and for most of the second half of last year I sat around munching bonbons with my feet up, just dozing off now and then. What? No, I think that I thought about doing that one day, but just never got around to it. Anyway, I decided that I really needed a big project to begin the new year with a bang. Right now it feels too much like a schplat, but that may be mostly because my head is throbbing and I am having trouble remembering exactly why this was so critical. More about that in an upcoming post.

What have I gotten into now? Well, last year I got it in my head that I desperately needed a separate website that was current and featured exclusively the prints that I display in these small local shows. A separate website strongly implied the need for a new blog to accompany said site, right? Of course, the smart thing would be to say "Leave well enough alone. Make the sites you have work for you."

You are getting ahead of me. Stop that snickering. You know, by now, exactly what I have been doing. Yes, non-techie-Anita, took on building two new sites. Before you say, "No big deal. Last week, I built one for a friend in a couple of evenings after work. Just used templates." Remember who you are talking to here. I struggle posting on the sites I already have. Building these two cost me heaven only knows how many hours off my life-span, since I am seriously handicapped in all things web-related. Okay, computer-related. But, since when has logic and self-preservation led me to make sensible decisions?

Plunge in I did. Finally, after you couldn't believe how many hours—no, really, it is humiliating to admit how long it took to get to this point of showing these sites to anyone without hanging my head in total shame—I am willing to send out the invitations.

Be kind to a poor beaten up non-computer geek in way over her head. But, please, please pass on information about obvious errors such as links that don't work or take you to weird unexpected destinations. No porn sites I hope. Heck, I don't know. Mostly guys stop in here and you might not care. I trust that Roberta would forgive my ignorance. I hope that no backstage clutter is visible and that both sites are somewhat presentable.

When I have recovered a wee bit, I can begin the second stage of tidying up the premises and adding niceties. Right now, I need to see if there are any bonbons in the house. Brownies would do.

War Horse

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If you have heard of the multiple-Tony winning play, War Horse, you have probably been wondering why it has taken me so long to mention it. Naturally, I had long indulged in fantasies about whirlwind trips to New York to take in this production.  Many years ago, The Husband and I had the good fortune to see a staged version of the Tolstoy story, "Strider." it was beautifully staged and incredibly moving. It was  amazing to see Strider, the horse, so eloquently brought to life by a two-legged creature. It sounds as though it couldn't work, but believe me it did. I knew I would appreciate War Horse.

I wasn't completely surprised by the profound effectiveness of the illusion because of a previous theatre experience. Much earlier in my life, I had seen a Ballet Folklorico troupe out of Mexico City and included on the bill was a number titled "The Deer Dance." I rank that as one of my all time favorite theatre experiences. I never saw anything on stage in Los Angeles, New York, or London to top the emotional impact of the two dancers playing out the chase and ultimate demise of the deer along with the hunter's reverence for his prey.

The troupe performed in quite a large venue and when the dance ended, there was a brief moment of stunned silence, then a crowd of more than a thousand people leaped to their feet to bring down the rafters with thunderous applause that didn't want to come to an end. I lost track of the number of curtain calls. No one wanted the magic to end. The performance was wrenching, poetic, and has forever haunted my thoughts.

I have no doubts that War Horse, the stage production, would make for more wonderful memories. Of course, a cross country airplane trip now is about as realistic as climbing that peak in the Andes. But, wait! dum te dum! Steven Spielberg to the rescue!  A few weeks ago, I had read in one of the many horse magazines that come to our house that the film adaptation of the play is scheduled for release either Christmas or early next year. Theatre seats and I don't get along, so I will have to wait for a delayed gift from Mr. S. And, yes, the puppeteers from the play have been replaced by real horses, but the trailer already has my little horse-loving heart going pitty-pat.

If you haven't seen the trailer, check it out here.  I may not watch this film as many times as I have seen The Black Stallion—Caleb Deschanel's cinematography was inspired—but War Horse has made it to my must-see list.

By the way, the image here was included in the Bear Valley Springs Art Show last spring.

Abandoned

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Once again, I saw this scene played out on Saturday. Poor Lancer was the one left behind. When The Husband and Night leave on foot, the chestnut is agitated and thunders around the pasture, bugling and expressing what feels like a mixture of panic and rage. Neither of the horses handles being left behind with grace. But, eventually, the panic subsides, the futility of the rage dawns, and whoever is left behind returns to grazing.

But, trust me, they know what a trailer means. When one's buddy is drawn away in that white metal box, it is serious business. There is genuine doubt as to whether the departing animal will return. Not only do the panic and rage run their course sooner, but, for Lancer, in particular, the deep anxiety and despair set in. Saturday was typical. At first he ran full out around the pasture, a frantic hell-for-leather version of nervous pacing. When he returned to the gate he began the weaving (shifting weight from one front leg to the other) until he was exhausted, then with his gaze fastened on the road, he whinnied, not those soft whinnies you get as a greeting, or those short, impatient whinnies that say "where is my hay?", but great body-shaking whinnies, that come from somewhere deep in the gut.

Then he stationed himself at the pasture gate—the gate that Night had exited earlier—and watched. Watched, and listened for signs that his abandonment was not permanent.  Attempts to distract him were met with impatience. Carrots earned only mild interest.  He briefly interrupted his vigil a few times only to get a drink of water and grab a quick bite of his virtually untouched breakfast.  From 7:00 AM until 5:00 PM he maintained his vigil. Standing. Waiting.

My heart hurts for them when they go through this. While animals are blessed with so many skills superior to our own, they are not equipped to deal with these human-engineered separations. Having other horses a pasture away is not enough. They want their buddy nearby. It is partially a matter of instinct. Like most prey animals, horses feel safer with their herd. They also form attachments. Some recent studies have indicated that horses may recognize other horses with whom they were associated many years before. That isn't surprising when you consider how many dogs cover hundreds of miles to find their owners. Whatever science may be able to demonstrate, you could never convince horse owner that these animals don't form deep attachments.

Our horses pick at one another like a couple little boys. They fuss, kick, and nip, lay ears back, and threaten mayhem. At times, you would swear they are mortal enemies. But, when abandoned, each is distraught. I always wish I could explain and assure the animal left behind that the separation is temporary. But, there is no reasoning with an animal separated from what has become family. It is painful to watch.

When Night finally came through the gate, he and Lancer touched noses and had a little horse hug (heads thrown over necks) before they set about their usual horse business of rolling in the dirt, eating—and fussing at one another.

Nothing is Safe

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In case you were wondering, yes, I am using this new style of processing on some equine images. After all, I can't lavish all of that love exclusively on landscapes and stills of flowers. At one point I thought about joking that I might be in danger of attempting to apply this processing to anything not moving. Oops! Well, at least I can assure you that this horse wasn't moving when I applied the texture layers.

A Heartbreaker

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Had you met Giovanni, he would have broken your heart. You got to know this horse at your own emotional risk.

My friend at Silent Night Farms, L, rescues a lot of horses. I have watched over the years as the lives of numerous wild mustangs and abandoned animals were turned around by this generous woman. All those heart-warming stories have touched me, but none prepared me for the saga of this chestnut gelding.

For four long years, Giovanni had been starved by the excuse for a human being who owned him. When my friend took him under her wing, the young gelding was nothing more than a skeleton with dull hide draped over it. The veterinarian said, “This horse is dead. He just doesn’t know it yet. In the past, you have done some amazing work bringing horses back from the brink, but I don’t think you have a chance with this one.” L was not to be deterred. She continued to shower the shell of a horse with care; and, gradually, he began adding flesh to the bones. His pathetic coat acquired color and a hint of shine. His progress was slow and painful, but steady. Still, the worst news was yet to come.

The years of abuse and neglect had left Giovanni with severe neurological damage.

He was left unsteady, constantly trying to find his balance point, and never quite certain where his feet were going to land. But, he was kind, gentle, curious, and you couldn't help but fall in love. On our 2010 spring trip, the Husband went in the gelding’s corral to distract him from the fence, so I would have an opportunity to take some photos, and the chestnut began following him like a sweet and inquisitive puppy. I had trouble focusing my camera. Tears aren’t conducive to sharp photos.

I am always happy to have a camera in my hand, and when I am surrounded by beautiful horses—well, that's about as good as it can get in my book. I had left home confident that I would have a wonderful time at Silent Knight Farms—I always do. And, I always come home with stacks of bulging full memory cards and hours of processing work ahead of me. But nothing prepared me for photographing Giovanni—for the privilege of sharing time with this amazing animal. It was an opportunity that I will always treasure.

A few months later, the gelding with the indomitable spirit was gone. He had finally come to the end of his short and painful journey. I hope you enjoyed your lease on life with L, Giovanni. You touched all of us, and we won’t forget you. Your story reminds us of the evil of which humans are capable. Your courage, will to live, and gentle nature—in spite of your lot in life—inspires and humbles us. It was a joy to see the light in your soft eyes. I was humbled by my challenge and hope that I captured something of your remarkable spirit.

Dortel, El Caballo Negro

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There are horses everywhere you turn at Silent Knights Farms. And, to top it off, Spring was in full swing when we arrived there April 16—balmy temperatures, sunshine, flowers, horses, seven dogs. For me, it was a little bit of Heaven. Since we drove down on Friday and returned Monday, I had two full days there to soak up all the goodness.

Don’t get me wrong, life here in Bear Valley Springs is mighty sweet; but I had grown quite weary repeating, “Goodbye, Winter. It was nice knowing you. See you next year. Don’t hurry back,” only to have Mr. Winter come roaring back for an unwelcome encore. (It snowed here last night—two days before May.) A weekend of uninterrupted Spring was a lovely gift. And, of course, there is no such thing as too many horses about.

Naturally, I fell in love with a couple of horses that were new to me. That's typical of me, I'm afraid. I’m a sucker for great looks and spirit. But, two of my sweetest treats came in the form of reunions of sorts with old crushes of mine.

One of the sweetest reunions was with the black gelding, Dortel. Dortel, the wild man. Dortel, who puts on the tough guy, I-will-eat-you-alive act one minute, but in another stands peacefully while I croon to him in my nonsensical and butchered Spanish. I whisper “Beunos dias,mi Querida. Usted es muy dulce . Mi caballo negro es muy hermoso. El Caballo es muy grande, muy elegante.” (Good day, my love. You are very sweet .) Okay, laying it on a bit thick, but I’m kinda crazy about the beast; and, as for the next part, he certainly is black, black as coal, and very beautiful. Then, the horse is very large (That’s a lie. He’s an Arabian and far from huge.) Very smart. (Yes, maybe too smart for his own good.) Dortel doesn’t know what I’m babbling on about and certainly doesn’t care that I am close to exhausting my miniscule Spanish vocabulary. I would feel even sillier talking to him about el gato (the cat) or telling him that el rio es rojo (the river is red). Therefore, the next stage usually ends up being “El caballo es muy loco y El Diablo, Si, uno caballo malo . Muy, muy loco en la cabeza.” Dortel isn’t fazed by being informed that he is crazy, a devil, bad, and even very crazy in the head. He just seems to like the sound of the Spanish language. Well, I think it sounds nice, as well, so we visit that way for a while.
Years ago, I met my friend at Silent Knight Farms, because of Dortel. She was walking him out after an endurance ride in Malibu and the moment I spotted them, I was smitten. She looked friendly and I asked the stranger if I might take some photos of her horse. She smiled, said sure, and that’s how it began. She became a client first, then a dear friend. And all because of this muy loco caballo. It was grand seeing him, this weekend, at liberty in one of the larger turnouts. What a joy he is to watch. Like the wind.

Blogging for Dummies

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Not only am I not a geek, I am virtually paralyzed by the thought of most software. For example, I have almost none of the bells and whistles on my blog that Blogger offers and I am not even considering ever switching to Wordpress. Now, take this for what it is worth, since I have already admitted that I don’t know what I am talking about; but, my ill-informed impression is that Wordpress is well suited for folks who are adept with software while Blogger is designed not only for those clever enough to maximize it’s capabilities, but for dummies as well. Furthermore, the only version of Blogger is free and that suits my budget perfectly. Is there any wonder, why I went with the latter?

Being a non-geek, shows up front. My blog is in need of updating, but every time I get into the dashboard, I spend far too much time bumbling about and get frustrated that it takes so much time to complete what I know should be a simple task.

In the last few days, I screwed “my courage to the sticking place” and switched from the old "post editor" to the newer "updated editor". By the time I experimented for a couple of days, I was more than a little ticked-off and convinced that I had wasted my time and driven my blood pressure up by at least ten points. It appears that I traded spell-check and new problems for a couple of conveniences that I had been living without up to this point.  Yes, I got a typeface I prefer, namely Helvetica. Still. Worth all the hair pulling? Let’s put it this way, I switched back to the old, unimproved editor after one post—for health reasons. Life is short.

On a slightly saner (at least calmer) note, I have been curious about statistics for my site for at least six months. I know I have a very light traffic, but it would be nice to see the growth. I do think that I have more readers now than I did a year ago, but I have never had the gumption to install any sort of counter. I don’t spend much time thinking about it. Although curiosity is a powerful motivator, I wouldn’t be doing anything different with my posts after reading the statistics. I suppose, then, that it doesn’t matter except that it irritates me to be handcuffed by my lack of education—which is compounded by wimpiness. It's pathetic, isn't it, if you can't easily master Blogger? Hopleless, I would venture to say.

By the way, I have finally returned to fight another day with new "updated editor" and we are getting along better now. And, you can stop laughing at me now, thank you. Sigh. I think I will concentrate on taking more photos and enjoying the digital darkroom. It's wise to acknowledge our limitations and stay in the kiddie sandbox if we truly belong there.

P.S. If you are wondering whether the photo connects with the text, think about it. Bird. Brain. Riiiiiight.
 
P.P.S. I don't stay in this sort of mood long. There is no payoff. But, sheesh, every so often I just need a good rant. I already feel better.

Loving the Dodgers and Higher ISO

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A few weeks ago, Paul Lester posted about higher ISO’s and his remarks started me thinking again about my most recent gear purchase. When I bought my Canon 50D, I knew full well that I wasn’t buying the camera that offered the best high ISO performance on today’s market. However, it ended up being the camera that best suited all my needs—cost and fps also ranked high on my must-have list. Because I still try to avoid going over ISO 640 to minimize processing chores, I have yet to fully explore all the possibilities of higher IS0’s with my newest camera. But, I am growing more confident that there are occasions when it’s high ISO to the rescue.


I didn’t gain the new confidence because I buckled down to some serious testing, but, as usual for me, stumbled into the information. A few days ago, The Husband took a break for a ride and left me toiling over the steaming heap of numbers we had been wading through for tax preparation. When I was completely burned out (it didn’t take long, since I had been at it off and on through the day), I decided I also needed a break. A little time watching one of our recorded episodes of NCIS was just what I needed. I escaped to the living room, turned on the TV, hit DVR, found an episode, but then realized I wanted a glass of water. My detour to the kitchen, put me within range of the radio I had left on in there the last time I snuck in a few minutes to catch up with the baseball game. Uh, oh. Ninth inning, Dodgers down 2 to 1, two outs. Rats. Maybe worth a minute for the nail to be put in the coffin. What? Holladay missed the ball, the Dodgers are alive?! Well, NCIS can wait. This was a playoff game, after all. As I listened to Vinnie call the play-by-play, I looked out toward the back pasture and noticed that The Husband had removed Lancer’s fly mask and the gelding was exerting a little energy fretting over being left alone.

Now there were three distractions calling. The Dodgers in distress, a distracting 40 minutes or so of TV drama, a relaxing photo shoot of Lancer (because after all I have hardly any pictures of the chestnut.) ;) The Dodgers won. I mean they won my attention and they won the game, a wonderfully exciting nail-biter. It was playoffs for NLCS over NCIS all the way.


The minute the winning run crossed the plate I grabbed the 50D and headed out toward the pasture to try my luck. By then, it was getting late and to get decent shutter speed and good exposure in the few remaining moments of light, I opted for ISO 2000. The files required a little extra time for noise reduction and I could probably do a better job with a noise reducing plug-in; but, so far, I get along with Photoshop CS3. While it’s true that I wouldn’t put these photos up against those shot under better circumstances; once again, I felt good about my choice to buy the camera. Without that higher ISO I would not have gotten the photos I hoped for. Of course, I would have gotten something different and the result might have been terrific, but I could always experiment in that direction. Having choices is nice.

Hanging Out With the Guys

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For a couple of evenings this past week, I spent some time out in the pasture hanging out with Lancer and Night. Friday, I darned near got frost bite it was so cold, but I have a several motivations.

Not only do I just enjoy watching the horses from a closer point, I certainly hope to get some shots that I like. My major motivation is getting back to a point where I am more comfortable shooting action. For many months now, I have been shooting landscapes and a little macro with very little action. I had gotten to the point of feeling totally out of shape for the demands of fast action shooting. The shots of the horses that I have posted recently were shot from safely outside the pasture, because I was still hobbling about on my abused ankle. I have finally reached the point where I feel relatively comfortable wandering about in the field—ground squirrel holes and all. The footing isn’t the very best, but, so far, so good.

One of the reasons that I need practice is that my best lens for shooting horses is far and away the 70-200 f2.8L, but the lens has two major drawbacks. 1. I foolishly saved money (this was done a couple of years ago) and didn’t get the IS version. 2. The weight. I call this lens Big Bertha. In the past, I used this lens only with a monopod. While I was never satisfied with that arrangement, I didn't feel confident without the security of the monopod. I put up with it, even though it is a definite hindrance. Most equine photographers handle that lens handheld for action, and I am slowly working my way up to some consistency with it. Of course shooting handheld will mean accepting some major disappointments with shots that would have been terrific, if only they were sharp. On the other hand, it means getting some shots that definitely would never be possible while lugging around a tripod and would most likely be missed with a monopod. I am going to go for the spontaneity and flexibility. I will have to live with the near misses.

My time with Lancer and Night is relaxing. Mostly they just eat their way along—not wildly entertaining; but I enjoy watching them do almost anything. Both of these evenings, however, the guys have put on a little show for me, and I thought I would share a couple of my practice shots. These are the antithesis of the glamour pictures that I will do more of as the weather warms—shots showing the horses “stood up” nicely with coats clean and shiny, eyes wiped clean, chin-hair trimmed sleek, hooves polished. Here, they are just being horses—and happy horses with room to play.

By the way, it may look as if Lancer (the chestnut) is standing still in the second shot, but he had just been crammed into the fence by Night, while they charged around the pasture. Night was playing the aggressor the second evening and was crowding Lancer, just for fun. They had a good romp, and I was treated to grand entertainment along with plenty of practice shooting fast action.

Horses and Contradictions

(Click on the thumbnail for the bigger, better version)

Yesterday at 5 PM, we had sleet along with an 18 to 20 MPH wind. One thing I have noticed is that precipitation here frequently comes at us on a diagonal—rarely straight down. Temperatures in the 30s, wind, sleet. So much for the imminent arrival of spring. Well, I can’t say that I hadn’t been amply warned.

At any rate, this weather proves that Lancer is a pretty smart horse. Lancer grew a heavy furry coat this winter and he hasn’t yet begun to shed. I guess he is getting the last laugh. Night, on the other hand, never grew as heavy a coat.

I think that I know some of the reasons for the discrepancy. (Mind you, this is not a scientific article.) First, Night was born in Idaho and lived there for the first couple of years of his life. Lancer had never lived anyplace other than balmy southern California. I am guessing that Lancer realized he was in for something early on with the first cold spell up here and his body went a bit nuts with the fur coat idea. The second thing is that Lancer is always a tad underweight. There is nothing wrong with him—well, nothing physical, at least—he is just hyper, even for an Arabian. He stays pretty much on the move. If he is penned up in his corral (currently a 24’ x 24’ space), he spends an inordinate amount of time weaving (shifting his weight rapidly from one front leg to the other). All he accomplishes is burning tons of calories, but he doesn’t see it that way. Still, it means that he doesn’t have much of a layer of fat to help keep him warm.

I have already mentioned that Lancer is from racing stock. While he has never seen a race track, his sire had quite a racing career. The result of the breeding is that while The Husband enjoys participating in endurance races, Lancer only gets the race part of that concept. His idea is to take off as soon a possible and cover ground as quickly as possibly. The endurance part means nothing to him. Because endurance rides are interchangeably known as endurance races, I suppose we can see where he gets confused. However, since the rides/races cover anywhere from twenty-five to one hundred miles, it is obvious that a horse who doesn’t “take care of himself” does not have the make-up for endurance. Lancer isn’t an endurance horse.

Night, on the other hand, is atypically lazy for the breed. Take note of that final qualifier. The gray would never be taken for a Quarter Horse, but compared to the chestnut he’s down right calm. He, by the way, is fine with endurance rides and sees no point in racing unless urged.

All this rambling leads me to my point about the photo above. When The Husband recently took Night out for a ride, leaving Lancer behind, I wondered what the show would be like. I was a bit surprised. While Night had remained agitated almost the entire time Lancer was gone, Lancer got over his abandonment issues fairly soon. He charged about madly for a bit, calling out to his buddy, and making a big fuss. But, before long, he began to notice that there was quite a lot of uneaten grass and after a bit, he would charge once around the pasture, pause to nicker plaintively, then take some time out from missing Night to nibble. Horses are a mass of contradictions.