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.

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.

Deadline Pressure

I am feeling the pressure now. Our next Art Show comes up December 10 and 11 and you didn't need me to tell you that I came up with last minute "inspirations" and got myself in some deadline trouble. Tell the truth. You wouldn't believe it was me, if I did it any differently.

If I am more flaky than usual in the next several days, you will know where I am and what I am doing.

The photo above is from my last flurry of exploration with the LensBaby before my incarceration in the studio and office, sentenced to more days of mounting, matting, and framing along with sign production.

I was sick as a dog last Sunday, but refused to completely waste the day. Instead, I watched videos and read tips for using the LensBaby. Periodically, I put a couple of small items on the dining table and went searching again for that !?**@$ sweet spot.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Me and My (Lens)Baby—Maybe

Since I took up photography, it has become a tradition in our family for me to choose a combo birthday, anniversary, Christmas gift near the end of the year. Moreover, I always manage somehow to get the present well before December 25th. This year the package came before Thanksgiving Day.

I finally took the plunge and asked for a LensBaby—Composer Pro w/Sweet 35, to be precise. I have had it for a couple days and I am as intrigued as I am frustrated by the lens. My struggles have me wondering if I am cut out to use this gear. I admitted long ago that my eyes aren't great—and there is even more than age at issue here. Nearsightedness. Astigmatism. Then, add the age on, for good measure. It's a challenge. Since I have had time for only a couple of brief sessions, I am withholding judgement; but, I am obviously not a natural with this. So far, this is as close as I have come to getting anything that I am willing to publish here.

I love the look and want this to work, but the manual focusing and that seemingly infinitesimal sweet spot is elusive so far.

Obviously, I have to set aside some time to give this a fair shot. I want to feel confident in my decision before I commit to keeping the lens or returning it. Defeat certainly wouldn't taste good. However, neither would stubborn denial.



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Update three sessions later: Since I like this photo better than the one above, I am feeling a bit more optimistic. Limited as I am by my eyes, this could never be my #1 lens. Still I am leaning more to staying with this. Maybe I will eventually get the hang of it.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Final Step with the Camera Connection Kit

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After a Wednesday late-afternoon drive around Bear Valley Springs with the trusty old 40D, I decided it was time to trot out that camera cable and connect to the iPad. It was simple as pie. Of course, the RAW files from the 40D aren't 21 megapixels, but the operation went smoothly. I can see that it chews up quite bit of battery juice. I decided what the heck. I had come this far without using the desktop I may as well complete the exercise and process the small set of photos with Snapseed and FilterStorm.

In the interest of full disclosure, I didn't download more than half a dozen files on this trial run. That means I have no idea how this would work if I had attempted to transfer 50 or 60 files. I have read that this sometimes causes the computer to freeze up. I have also read that your RAW files are converted to jpg's as they are transferred and they are downsized. Both of those things make sense to me. Earl, have I got all this right? I think I read all this on Terry White's Adobe Photoshop tech blog.

I now pronounce myself ready to move to the next phase. Time to refine the basic skills I have acquired and begin planning a weekend trip. The fundamentals are in place. Soon I will be travel-ready and that means ready for traveling light. Should I tell The Husband? Yeah, I think he is already on to me.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

What Qualifies As New Work?

I don't plan to make this the official new format for the blog—going sans photo, but my limitations create some restrictions and I will settle for this again today.

Last week, I made fun of my "90% new work" rule and after some comments on that rule I thought I should clarify and ask the opinion of others as to what qualifies as new work.

Common sense and self-preservation told me to simply show mostly pieces that exist in present inventory of framed prints and enjoy the experience of our venture. Over time, I have amassed a decent collection and I could easily have had enough pieces for such a small show as this. Need I reference previous examples of ignoring common sense in my plans of action?

Therefore, after a brief period of struggling to talk sense to myself, I surrendered and admitted that I was going to spend a small chunk of money on new framing kits as well as dig into the work of prepping new pieces. My definition of new work, this time around, meant work that may have been displayed on my blog, but pieces that had never been given the final tweaks. Web ready, yes. But, not print-ready. From past experience, I knew better than to assume that a piece that had played well on the web was ready to be printed and framed for presentation. Sure enough, there were cases where I got some unpleasant surprises and spent quite a bit of time coaxing out the file that was up to the rigors of print.

By the time I finished the job, I had six framed pieces that were new to my framed-prints collection. I had planned on hanging eight pieces which would fill my small portion of our limited display area. Right off you can see that I didn't meet my 90% goal. I got close, but three pieces that I had my heart set on eluded me. (Perhaps I should be grateful. After all, we have another show in December.)

More to come on another day. Meanwhile, does your definition of new (for a show) come closer to the SoFoBoMo rules—meaning photographs taken in the period immediately before a show? Does it exclude work previously shared in any form? Maybe I am out there in some alternative universe making stuff up as I go along. Wouldn't be the first time.

Telling Stories With Images

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I enjoyed the responses to my last post and probably will post similar questions in the future. A great big thank-you to all who participated in the conversation. I appreciate the time taken to share your stories and each comment left me with something interesting to contemplate.

The story elements that evolved in my mind as that recent image emerged were rather dark. There was a sense of being lost in a forlorn and harsh environment—a cold, brutal wind stung my eyes. Even though there seemed to be vast open spaces around me, I was hemmed in by something I couldn't see. Everytime I felt I was about to gain control over events, I was faced with a dark and unexpected turn. The mountains were a challenge that I somehow had to reach, for the only hope lay on the other side.

I am intrigued by the connection between the elements in a picture and the properties of the story that emerges. For me, it isn't a clean and linear line. It is as if the image whispers stories to life and the stories then play on me as I process the image. I have come to think of that interplay as a kind of a dance. The intellect is in charge, then yields to the heart. I know precisely where I am going and how to get there.... Then, I lose my way and stumble about taking cues from what?  A dream, a memory?

When I stop molding an image—when I am ready to share it and say "This is it—for now", the result sometimes feels like something that is not really my own. There is no one or thing to blame, of course, but neither can I claim full credit—if, indeed, any is due. I led during parts of the process, but there were moments when it felt more like following. It was a process that took me to a discovery.

There is another aspect of images and communication that intrigues me. I have noticed that some people seem to think that if the image is made well enough it will say the same thing to all viewers. Wouldn't that turn the entire communication experience into a guessing game? "Guess what story I meant to convey with this image." That sounds like a really lame parlor game.

We all bring our unique life experience to every contemporary experience. We, each, arrive at any given moment with our particular baggage and that baggage will affect what we read into the story before us. Just as you and I would visit the same spot, but return home with different photographs, shown the same image we will read different stories featuring our particular characters and playing off our personal history.

The responses to my invitation for your stories gave me a good taste of what I was craving—some conversation about personal emotional responses to an image. What more could I have asked? The photo here was taken on that same stretch of highway as the last picture. This one calls to my mind very different stories, even though the setting is similar and the characters in the image certainly look similar. I hope this one suggests stories that speak to you.

Some Joy Even in Mudville

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That phrase "no joy in mudville" keeps running through my mind. While other bloggers post beautiful images of spring blossoms, I look at our barren place and think what is this about? While we have some beautiful days periodically, there are new mud puddles replacing the previous mud puddles which replaced the...you get the picture. The temps are still dropping into the 30's most nights. Plant ye your flowers if ye dare. We haven't dared.

Meanwhile, I have drowned the choruses of "woe is me" by returning to a flirtation with adding textures to photos. If anyone is to blame for encouraging me, it would be Mark Graf. After a couple of his recent posts rekindled my curiousity, I decided to give texturing another try. This time around I wised up (this is definitely thanks to Mark) and stopped trying to work with my own textures. Some things need to be left to the experts. There are textures out there created by people a whole lot smarter than me, and I regret wasting so much time before I got the message. (The bulk of the textures used here are from Shadowland.* More about that later.)
*Edit: Shadowhouse Creations is the correct name of the source. My face is red. Don't know what I was thinking about.

You may have guessed by the whine above that my blooms were photographed indoors. I am also experimenting with walking indoors. We have an old treadmill that has been stuck in the garage waiting for that famous garage sale we need to hold. I hadn't used the thing in years because each time I did my back acted up. I am ready to give it another go. So far, mixed reviews and hoping for gradual improvement.

Clearly, walking in our garage doesn't hold a candle to striking out on the lower valley trail headed for Cub Lake; but, it beats no walking at all. The trails are still fit only for the sure of foot, which doesn't describe me. So, the garage it is, for now. Yes, while a half hour flies by out on the trail, ten minutes in the garage crawls along at a glacial pace. Still, with sufficient rewards at the end medicine goes down a little more easily, right? Eventually, those trails will be dry again and I want to be ready.

Creative Minds and Crash Landings

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Do you frequently come crashing to earth after completing a challenge? That is typical for me. During the last hours—even days in some cases—before crossing the finish line, I am frequently running on fumes and lose sight of how much real energy I can afford to expend. After the excitement is over, I discover that I was dipping into the reserves. It took time to store those reserves, I am reminded. Deplete them and you need time to restore.

That sums up fairly well where I am now. I have big plans for this next project that is already begun, plenty of enthusiasm, some work done, and ideas galore; but, the engine isn't turning over.  I know that the problem is exacerbated by the spectre of The Husband's surgery that is just days away. I try my best to put those family concerns in that folder for all the things that I can't do anything about.  You know. We try to sort out what we can fix, what we can improve on, what we can prepare for, and mark clearly the things that are out of our control.

For years, I have been on a mission to get better at sorting things into those neat little piles. But, sometimes it's like trying to sort feathers, outside, on a windy day. Things keep ending up in the wrong darned pile.

Getting back to creative matters—oops, that was a strong gust of wind—I am quite taken with the metallic paper prints from Bay Photo Lab. Seeing those prints up at the show Saturday and hearing the responses caused me to look at some things differently. Now, as part of my next project, I find myself inspired to tinker with some old favorites and rework them in a way to (I hope) maximize the appeal of that paper. The sad news is that I finished re-working one piece Monday, and that is as far as I've gotten with revisions for metallic paper. Running on two cylinders for a few days. No point in fighting it.

The image above is the piece in the show that was printed on metal. Since I got a code for a discount on metal prints, I suppose I will replace the sold one and take advantage of the offer.

Reflections on the BVS Annual Art Show

(The "bigger, better" version, in this case, has a haloing and banding that stinks and wasn't on the print. If you can overlook that, you will have an idea of what the print looked like)

Saturday's forecast had called for a high of 69 degrees—balmy by our recent standards, and no rain in sight. That was promising. It was looking as if we would have a great day for a party and an art show. Sure enough the sun come came out bright and clear—not one of those gray mornings that have been the norm lately.

The Husband got ahead of me and placed all five of my pieces in the back of the car and we took off before 8:30 AM to deliver everything to the country club. Before we could get everything out of the back of the car, there was a friendly greeter out to meet us and offering to carry anything inside for us. Our greeter was a friendly face from two years ago, a fellow photographer who had been extremely kind and encouraging to me. Another good sign for the occasion. 

Inside, all was abuzz with activity. There were stations for checking in where workers attached official labels to the bottoms of the art, then "hangers" who quickly and efficiently grabbed up the work to hang it on available wall space. Everything appeared to be humming along smoothly.

My work aroused a bit of curiosity at the check-in area. That's not surprising, since there are far more painters involved in the event than photographers, my process as well as mediums evoked a few questions. The pieces all looked sort of like photographs, but not exactly, and that brought up a number of inquiries. The metal, canvas, and metallic paper brought up questions about "how I did it". The piece that garnered the most questions, not surprisingly, was the one on metal. I was told that one of the men working the show commented, "If that one doesn't sell, I'll eat my hat." Goodness knows, I didn't want the man eating a hat! I needed a sale.

After a brief visit with a few people we recognized and some embarrassingly lame attempts on my part to answer questions, we left the working staff to finish their job and headed back home. There was a nice break for a rest, lunch, and then time to get back for the reception. I didn't want to miss a moment of the party.

We got there about five minutes after the doors were to officially open, but there was already quite a crowd munching on hors d'oeuvres and sipping wine. I collected my name tag. It announced "Artist" in bold letters under my name and made me feel a bit self-conscious. Maybe "Contributor" would have been easier to handle, I thought to myself. But there wasn't time for reflection. The big lobby was already noisy, there was a constant hum of chatter and people moving about. As time went on, I heard more than once that some of the missing husbands were "in the bar, having a 'real' drink." Perhaps the getting dressed up had been a bit too much for a few of the guys. The mood was upbeat and the energy level was high. 

The walls of the club lobby were covered with art work. I know I will have to go back one day this week to really take it all in. Yesterday there was simply too much noise and too many people to really see more than a handful of pieces.

Wherever I was I could see that there were usually two to six people looking at my little portion of the east wall. That east wall placement proved to be a major asset. Early on, I was at the back of the hall encouraging a bright-eyed young woman who enthusiastically confided that she was participating in her very first show ever. Later, making my way back toward the entrance, I stopped off to admire the drawings of a new friend. While she complained that she didn't have any really new work for this show, I marveled at her skill in depicting the life in her subjects' eyes.

As I had begun my return from the back of the hall, I had noticed a middle-aged blond woman accompanied by an older woman looking at my work. By the time I left my friend, still unconvinced that her gift is in capturing eyes, I registered that those two women were still in that same spot and became curious about their interest in my pieces. 

It turned out the younger woman had fallen for the largest print in my group—the photo of our chestnut, Lancer (the picture above, but without that nasty banding you will see in the larger jpeg). They asked questions about creative process that I didn't have good answers for. I felt more stupid than ever. How do I know why I added the golden glow to the dust at the horse's feet in that one image? In spite of my lame answers, the daughter was convinced that she had to have the 20x26 framed piece. The mother, however, was certain that her daughter didn't have room. I could feel a potential sale slipping away.

While I caught a glimpse now and then of "the one that got away", M (the artist who knows how to draw eyes) began selling my piece on metal. I was amazed. I couldn't have hired a better advocate. She was collaring friends and acquaintances and dragging them to vantage points to take in the effect of late afternoon light bouncing off the metal. Before I knew what hit me, M had sold the piece and the red dot denoting "sold" went up on the label for that piece. Whew! She was a force to be reckoned with. I want to take her with me every time I try to sell anything!

By the time that sale was concluded, I was feeling pretty good about the show—except for my back and feet, that is. Then, I got a new burst of energy. The woman with the blond braid down her back who had been admiring my large print was back, standing in her place once again, square in front of the piece, no one else around her, and glued to that image.  Maybe..., I thought, just maybe, and made a beeline for her. I wanted to be nearby in case she had any questions, and I guess my timing was good. She turned to me as soon as I neared and said, "I'm going to buy your horse!" Well, that was fine by me.

I left the club exhausted, hungry, and elated. But the best part was still to come. My back had barely survived the test and when home, I took time out only for a greeting for Galen then headed for my closet to change into pj's. I knew I was done for the day. Yes, I would be sitting upright for a while, but I would be totally useless the rest of the evening. When I emerged from the closet, comfy, and ready for relaxation, something out of place caught my eye. While I was in my exhausted stupor, The Husband had snagged my "Artist" label off my sweater and stuck it at eye level on the mirror above my sink. See why I think he's so special? I couldn't have asked for anything sweeter to wrap up the day. 

Photos to Share and Photos to Hide

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Several recent comments here, as well as posts by other bloggers, have caused me to think more about the decisions we make regarding the fate of our photographs. For me, at least, it's usually fairly simple to identify the bombs that I really don't want to be reminded of. Ever. Those are deleted during the first edit.

Then, there are the ones that may someday work—they aren't exactly singing to me, but seeing them the next time I open the folder won't send me into a fit of depression.  A few of those get processed, sometimes reworked a time or two, and sometimes shared. Periodically one of them even becomes a new favorite.

Rarely, there is a RAW file that fairly shouts, "Me. Me." When that happens the picture is usually shared in one form or another. Sometimes those get printed.

Now, if only all the pictures fell neatly into one of these three categories. Unfortunately, I end up with too many in the "What Now?" category. In this case, I find that the dialogue runs toward, "I like it. I think. But, I'm not sure why. Is it because this reminds me of something that I have previously admired? That's probably it. Mine is a lousy imitation of something good. Yeah. I hate it. I think." When that happens, I spend varying amounts of time weighing the risks of showing something that I am drawn to, but have absolutely no confidence in. (This scenario fits the photo I published on March 23.) Sometimes, I am in a what -the-heck mood. On other occasions, I cave and the photograph remains in the folder sinking further and further to the bottom of the black hole that is my old folders. Eventually, most of those images are lost and forgotten.

Lately, I have posted a great number of pictures from my "drive-by" folders. I don't prefer to shoot that way, but we seem to always be on the road these days to some appointment or the other, and the camera helps me make the trip with some degree of calm. You probably recognize the picture above as another from the series taken along Highway 58 on the way down to Bakersfield. I have become self-conscious about posting so many of these pictures taken on the fly with the G7, but this is mostly what is happening in my life at the moment.

Do you ever have discussions with yourself about whether to share a picture, or tuck it away in your "private file"?

Upgrades

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Most photographers enjoy gear talk and there is quite a bit of chatter online about upgrades to cameras and gear. I got to thinking. If there were ever to be an upgrade on Anita (you know, the Anita Jesse Mark II, let's say), I  just hope auto focus will be included on the next model. This old model is clunky to operate, at best.

Clunky in what ways, you ask. Well, you would think that I would be focused on the upcoming Art Show, since the work has to be hung April 16. Yet, here I am, not even close to wrapping all the work for the show, and I have veered off into yet other projects. Yesterday, I should have been clearing the studio of some of the junk that has accumulated in that room during the last several months. It is obvious that work space has to be cleared for the mounting and framing yet to be done. Still, was I focused on the show? No, of course not. I had the brilliant idea to try a new tutorial "just for a minutes of distraction and a bit of relaxation."

Well, one thing led to another and there went the day.  Sure, I had a great time following one idea to the next, and then another. Heck, I enjoy the journey, even though I sometimes end up in a familiar place with only a slight new twist. The image above is one of those cases. At the same time, this is one of those pieces that I have worked on two or three different times and had never discovered where it wanted to go.

As always, it's the process that is exhilarating and satisfying. And, I won't kid you—I do enjoy the adrenalin high that comes with ideas popping. No doubt there is a downside for me. By the time I have worked until I'm bleary-eyed and there is no more adrenalin to pump, I am left worthless for about 48 hours. Only after I begin to recover can I fully enjoy the residual inspiration and sense of renewal.

Returning to the upgrade notion, maybe this Mark II version of Anita should have more power, as well. Longer-lasting batteries that don't wear out over the years, perhaps?  It wouldn't hurt to include more memory, definitely an improved sensor, and maybe....

Making Art as Therapy

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I'm not great at handling stress. My usual tactic is to wrap it tightly in a huge, hard knot, and drop it in the pit of my stomach. This is not a strategy that I recommend. Of course, I am also well practiced in the art of locking my shoulders somewhere up above my ears. There is another brilliant move, that I can't, in good conscience, advise for healthy living.

Because the stress level here rates pretty high on the Richter scale, I knew I had to find a way to divert some from the stomach area. Too late on the shoulder business. Originally, I had the bright idea that I would set aside all my creative work and all the crazy plans I normally have for yet another project and just deal with the business at hand. Well, that lasted about a day and a half. By then, I was exhausted from screaming silently and moping, had the shoulders locked, and was hard at work on the knot. I decided to reverse field.

Saturday, I dove into the files from that shoot last spring at my friend's horse farm.  For the moment, I have no perspective, but I think that I have found more images worth working on. These are the ones that either simply didn't register previously, or I had liked the potential but could not see a solution to the native problems at that time. After all, I had what seemed to be an embarrassment of riches after one quick pass. The client's package, all done up in a handsome archival box with acid free tissue, and tied with a beautiful wired ribbon, contained 47 prints. I didn't have to get past the first cut to please her.

Now, I am obsessed with possible overlooked "treasures", "could-bes" or "maybes" and free to spend all the time I need experimenting with heretofore unimagined solutions to nasty backgrounds. (Nasty backgrounds at SKF are part of the game. This is a functional farm, not a Kentucky show barn.) I cannot say that I worked in an organized and smart manner—this is therapy now. The final product isn't the focus. The doing is all that matters. While I am absorbed in an image it fills up the corners of my mind, crowding out everything else.

Throughout the day, I skipped wildly from one passion to the next with no order and no sense of a plan, but simply letting my heart take me from one impulse to the next. It was healthy and when (and if) I finish one of these pieces of therapy, I will share it here. Meanwhile, I felt like posting one of the pictures that had been ignored in the first cut. On that fine spring morning, this bay gelding called Louie, exulted in his power and the joy of freedom. It was a contagious celebration of life.

Posey

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Yesterday was one of those days when I was in the mood to lazily lean back in my rocking chair in front of the fireplace and enjoy the rain from our comfy living room. You have the picture, right? A throw around my shoulders, Sheltie at my feet, a little reading, some music, maybe a little television, and some time spent just watching the rain fall.

Switch the music, something allegretto now, and wipe that last image. Instead, I was working on the large order for my friend and client down south. Having printed proofs a week or so ago, I have spent some time each day, for the last few days, making those final tiny tweaks to all the images. This is definitely not therapy for my back. Quite the contrary. But, it is a labor of love.

Since these are the images on my mind, I thought I would share a couple of them with you. The horse in both of these pictures is one of her stallions, Posey. As you can see by the second image, My friend loves a fanciful approach. While she is a big fan of more straightforward, representational pictures, she also gets pretty excited about a few that are made into something outside reality. Early on in my processing of the files from that shoot last April, I had been playing in Photoshop one day and had fiddled around with this textured background made from a photo taken at her place. Later, when she viewed her sideshow to make selections, I showed her both versions of this one—the "straight" one with the out-of-focus background (same background as the one above) and this version. Without a second's hesitation, she went for the more fanciful treatment. 

In a Photoshop Daze

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For the last several days, I have been a photo-processing fool. I have been steeped in Photoshop—working on files from recent shoots, the trip to Death Valley last spring, and a large order from my dear friend and client, L, at Silent Knight Farms. I see sliders and layer masks when I close my eyes.

The unexpected turns in my life that began in June, last year, put a major dent in my schedule, and I am about as far behind as a person can get. But, it's work that I enjoy. I love the experience of seeing a RAW file come to life on my screen. I enjoy the work so much that I need to pinch myself periodically as a reminder to get up and stretch my back.

The photo above is one of my favorites from SKF and the one on the left was taken in Death Valley. By the time I got home from each of those trips, I was already dreaming about returning as soon as possible. Silent Knight Farms is all about horses—gloriously beautiful animals turned out to do what they love to do: run like the wind. Death Valley is matchless—a truly awe-inspiring landscape. It is a joy to be at either place with a camera in hand. 

Caught Up In Details

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Still caught up in my details phase, I went out Monday with the 70-200mm and continued to use my lens to isolate elements of larger objects. I found focusing (no pun, intended) on close work, a wonderful way to shut out the rest of the world. The time passed quickly. It is an approach I don't often take, and I thoroughly enjoyed the exercise. 

One of my favorite aspects of the final product was the collaborative aspect that occurred during the processing phase. The Husband has a good eye and asked if I had considered going darker with one image that I was processing. That set off something in my head and I began tinkering. One thing led to another and eventually each image ended up being treated to some Photoshop love. 

I expect I will have more days of wandering around the place searching out details that interest me. With many doors having closed for me recently (at least temporarily), I am busy tapping the walls and looking for new doors.

Why I Love Drive-By Photography—Duds and All

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It's a fact that drive-by photography is guaranteed heartburn if you are hard on yourself. You have to have the stomach for stress, if you agonize over dud after dud when editing files.

I deleted most of the pictures from this session and almost dumped the one above. You may be wondering what changed my mind. It's more than a bit soft. (You bet that's what all that processing is about.) Furthermore, the framing is not what I had hoped for. When I began editing the files, the less than stellar results did not surprise me. Not only was there a distinct haze over the landscape that afternoon, I was in the passenger seat of a vehicle traveling 75 MPH when I took the photograph.  Under those conditions, I didn't have my heart set on a stack of outstanding images. But, I was going to be stuck in the passenger seat for at least an hour, and enjoying the feel of a camera in my hands made the trip more enjoyable. Later, when editing the folder I tried to pass by this photo, but something kept pulling me back. Will this one go in my top 10 for 2011? Goodness, I hope not. But, what the heck, it pleases me today, and I am my number one customer.

Regardless of the outcome of a photo-taking session, I enjoy the process from beginning to end. And, for me, that's what this is all about. The moment of seeing is the greatest joy. The sound of the shutter is profoundly satifying and marks the definitive moment of connection with my surroundings. (Yes, I am a simple person.) Just seeing the light on the subject and pressing the shutter fills my heart with joy, even if I format the card before I get home. If I end up with a photograph that I like from a drive-by session, I am always surprised and count it as a welcome bonus.

I once received a comment from someone who didn't see much point in what I call "drive-by photography". He felt that if the subject wasn't worth stopping for, getting out the tripod, and setting up the shot, why bother?

I "bother" for three reasons. One, I continue to learn by taking photographs. Yes, even bad photographs. Two, and more importantly, making pictures—even if I do not capture the feeling evoked by what I saw—the joy of seeing and shooting makes me happy. Three, I know that I have occasionally been ridiculously lucky in the worst of conditions and gotten a photograph that I quite like . And, even when a photo that I am drawn to calls for a major intervention, that's okay by me. I genuinely enjoy tinkering in Photoshop. Why post the picture? I enjoy the sharing aspect as well. Let's face it, life includes its share of disappointments, drudgery, and hardship. I relish all moments of delight, large and small.

A Little More Light in My Digital Darkroom

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My computer handles CS3 fairly well, but it’s over three years old, so, of course, that means in computer years it’s a relic. That’s one of the reasons I had put off exploring working at 16 bits. I suspected that working with the larger files would only create more headaches than it was worth. But then, I read an article, or saw a tutorial (I no longer remember the source) that mentioned the increased elasticity of a 16 bit RAW file, and I was in a mood to experiment.

I know I have a tendency to be suggestible when I read or listen to experts, so I could be kidding myself. But, I am hooked. While it's true that working on a file that size chews up the memory at warp speed; I was surprised at how much more I could wring out of the material. When I used the approach for some photos I took using ISO 2000, I was grateful to have access to more depth and to be able work with pixels that were just a little more supple. The photo above appealed to me because of the story. Lancer was dealing with abandonment issues—Night had been taken out for a ride—and the herd next door must have looked appealing to our lonely gelding.

While I will continue to work predominately with 8 bit files, I now feel comfortable turning to the memory-hogging 16 bits when an image needs some extra TLC.