Struggling to Make a Come Back

I'm making an effort, folks. Promise. But, I'm either so exhausted that stringing a sentence together is beyond me, or I'm so flustered by a dead end type situation that, believe me, you don't want to hear what I'm thinking. My computer sits gathering dust, and I borrow The Husband's to read a little now and then. I have seen several fascinating posts that I want to come back to and chew on when my brain is once again functional. But, that's the extent of my contact with the world. Eventually, I will feel strong enough to tackle the hours and hours it will take to restore my computer. But, right now the thought makes my head hurt.

This much I have learned. This moving stuff is for youngns. (That's a whole topic on its own) I have aches in places I didn't know I had places. Everything is lost somewhere and the closer we get to making that last trip to clean up the house in Los Angeles, the more I dread the day. This nasty little feeling keeps popping up that maybe renting is not such a bad idea. That means that some day, maybe.... Obviously, in a few weeks I will wonder why I ever entertained such a ridiculous thought. Still, after a point, exhaustion plays tricks with your mind. Furthermore, while I bemoan my fatigue (insert sound of very tiny violin here), my heart is heavy for a couple of friends who are going through some genuinely tough times and deserve more attention and care than I am offering.

Now, I have a few days before our next trip back down there. Yesterday I imitated a vegetable after thinking the night before that I had begun a case of flu. It appears that the symptoms were just my body telling me to stop and take a breath. Today, I woke feeling almost human for the first time in a couple of weeks. Moving day was, of course, hellacious. The husband had been forewarned that I would cry all day the day we moved. (Knock it off, you guys. I heard those groans. Some women do that sort of thing.) It turned out I was too tired to cry and I am still waiting for that day when I can just curl up and bawl for hours over my plants, my trees, my familiar nest. Eventually, this new place will be home. Just not yet.

Until Later

I am totally out of touch for few days—we are pulling the plug on the last computer.

Pooped and Preoccupied

Ya'll talk amongst yourselves. Because, I have started three or four posts that I could never seem to finish, I will give up and wait until I catch my breath. In addition to the moving chaos, we have to keep the place ready for showings of course. That keeps things interesting. I suppose I should be grateful. If not for the neatness enforced on us, I fear we would be living in a total mess. Does anyone know the line from an old Bette Davis film, where she enters a house and says, with her customary flair, "What a dump!" I never saw the film, but saw a clip once in a show about her and that stuck in my mind. Well, without the pressure of showings and wanting very much to sell, I suspect our place, by now, would qualify for Bette's description.

We are in the final stages of moving and doing it in a crazy way. (Hey, what else?) We are taking loads up to Bear Valley on a weekly basis. The trips accomplish two things. We have a huge percentage of our smaller stuff up there already and we are even starting to do a little unpacking. Besides, we need to go each week to water our young struggling trees. A further bonus is that this routine gives The Husband an opportunity to check on the horses (they are already up there boarding for this transition period.)

I'm hoping to have a quiet day soon, but not banking on it. Anyway, this won't last forever. At least, I hope not. Egads! What a horrifying prospect.

Feedback

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Recently, I have read a number of posts that touch on giving and receiving comments. For quite some time, I was one of the lurkers who visited numerous sites but remained silent, because I felt that since I was such a wet-behind-the-ears newbie, my comments weren’t of any interest to anyone and I didn’t really know what to say anyway. Now that I have been at this a little longer, I still classify myself as a newbie with tons to learn, but since I am blogging regularly and making new photographs while I continue to read avidly and study the work of others, I am more interested in the art of commentary. Nowadays when I visit other blogs, I want to acknowledge the fine writing I encounter, and I want to leave behind a thank you for the inspiration that has been offered to me.

As usual, I don’t claim the following thoughts are purely original insights. Rather, I am offering my take on subjects that have been well covered by a number of thoughtful and wise people. Sean McCormick includes on his site a clear and explicit message as to the types of comments that interest him (see "No Comment" under Words) and his thoughts had a profound impact on me. Recently, the thought process was kicked off again by Paul Butzi’s post, Cliché. Mark Graf’s article titled Embracing Failure is closely related and set the wheels turning once again. Neil Creek wrote a piece sub-titled, A Guide to Commenting on Other People’s Photos, for Digital Photography School, and it is worth keeping handy for those times when you would like to leave a comment but are at a loss for words. Now, yesterday, Paul Lester put up a post reminding us that one of the secrets to growing as an artist is to listen to one’s own voice.

It makes sense to me that if you are making your photographs public, you are probably looking to make some type of connection with other human beings. Otherwise, why wouldn’t you keep the images hidden away and for your eyes only? Making any work of art public entails certain emotional risks. (Of course, every step of art-making entails emotional risks, but that’s too large a topic for this post.) Those of us who choose to make our work public must face the fact that most people don’t have a clue as to how to comment on any type of art. Many are too shy to put their thoughts out there, others just don’t want to invest the time in articulating what they are experiencing. Some feel compelled to demonstrate their expertise and/or their credentials, but few individuals trust their own feelings enough to put them into words.

I am going to spend some more time with my thoughts and post on this topic again, because I have some strong feelings about the role of the Artist and the Critic along with the responsibilities of each. But, for now I will just say I am thinking that perhaps it is the responsibility of each of us to let viewers know what type of feedback we are inviting. In other words, if I make my work public, maybe I should include on my site some thoughts about what type of comments I would most like to have viewers leave. If I put my work out there for public viewing, I should be sufficiently secure in ownership of my creative core to resist placing a burden on my viewers. I am accountable for the nurturing of my creative spirit and I should not attempt to shift that burden onto my viewers. On the other hand, if I put my work out in public view, I am clearly hoping to connect with those who pass by and view the work. Furthermore, it seems appropriate to invite those who drop in to “sign the guestbook”, so to speak. If anyone is looking for a reason to bother leaving comments, I think it’s an invaluable learning tool and offers benefits to both viewer and poster. I have found that the more I comment on other people’s work, the more I get out of the viewing experience.

I am delighted by the viewers who post comments here and take the time to remind me that I am not just talking to myself. I have become quite attached to the friends that I have found in the virtual world of photo blogs, and I invite any drop-by visitors to join the circle. I post photographs, record thoughts, and share stories at my site, because I am interested in connecting with others and love to get feedback. To any and all who drop by, please join in the conversation. Add your own thoughts and questions to the exchange. And, if you are comfortable talking about feelings, please tell me what the photos and/or the posts make you feel. In addition to your thoughts on the topic discussed, let me know if something caused you to smile, frown, laugh, sigh, shake your head, or yawn. Let me know if I have struck a spark of feeling. Let me know if something I said or photographed connected with you.

Celebrating Inspiration

On Friday, thanks to David Ziser, I saw the video, "Celebrate What's Right With The World", and I wanted to pass on the inspiration. I hope you will spend the few minutes to view this uplifting piece by National Geographic photographer, DeWitt Jones.

Many times over the past year, I have run across words by other photographers that have deeply influenced me. This is one of those occasions. I confess that once in a while, I question my tastes in photography. I wonder whether I am attracted to images that are too simple and too romantic—you know, not edgy enough, not sophisticated enough. Mind you, I am not just talking about what I am drawn to photograph, but what I admire and what I aspire to—the images by other artists that touch me and make me want to reach far beyond what I am capable of now. From this point forward, when those questions and doubts arise, I will think about DeWitt Jones's philosophy: Celebrate What's Right With The World.

Meet Bitchin’ Betty

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Soon after the Shultz's (previous owners of our house in Bear Valley Springs) moved in, they discovered that a hawk had claimed a spot on the roof—a perch on the western edge of the house offering a perfect bird’s eye view of the open field with all its tiny rodents. The hawk’s proprietary nature along with its frequent dive-bombing maneuvers and aggressive warning shrieks made quite an impression, and the Schultz's decided that the hawk needed a name. Bill knew that a group of FA-18 Hornet pilots stationed at El Toro in southern California gave a name to the computerized female voice that alerts pilots to mechanical trouble. They dubbed her Bitchin’ Betty. The name seemed to fit the predator that had claimed the spot on the roof that would have been used for the satellite dish.

Both The Husband and I have experienced the moment when this hunter comes swooping down from out of the clouds—wings spread wide—those piercing eyes glaring at you. It does leaves an impression. We have decided that the name will stick. When we first began making trips to our new home, we didn’t see a great deal of Betty on our roof and wondered if she had found a new home. But, she’s back and she frequently checks her perch to see what the vegetation in our field might offer. I suppose the hunting is somewhat decent or she wouldn’t return, but so far we haven’t seen her dining on anything.

Plenty of Hot Air

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Early on the morning of the Fourth, we sat on our back patio, ate breakfast, and watched the hot air balloons over Cub lake and our property. We were treated to a splendid show of color against wispy clouds streaking the blue sky. Perhaps I am an oddball, but I found the sounds that the balloons emit a bit unnerving. To me, the sound is a little spooky and, while I loved watching the brightly colored baubles float above us, I wasn't a big fan of the sound. I wonder if anyone else has that reaction. The Husband wasn't the least bit affected by it.

Celebrations

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On Tuesday of last week, we left LA planning to return early Thursday. We were having the carpets cleaned in the house in Bear Valley and delivering some things we are moving by hand. But then, we started noticing all the preparations for the Fourth of July celebration and reading about the parade, and one thing led to another. We ended up staying much longer than we planned but had a great time. This was the first time we had given ourselves more than a few hours of being totally irresponsible to simply enjoy what is to be our new community.

The parade was a treat. We watched the hot air balloons from our backyard. We walked around the grounds at Cub Lake where the parade ended and the booths were set up, witnessed the demonstration of the cannon firing, met some people, and enjoyed all the families herding children with painted faces past the sights. It was a grand celebration of the birthday of our independence.

Do you think the adorable little girl in the shot above likes fire engines? Is that pure delight? Her little brother was a bit reluctant to be hoisted into the driver's seat until he saw how much fun big sister had, then he was ready for his turn. Normally, I don't grab shots of people's children—not in today's climate. But, no one seemed to mind, and in a couple of cases I couldn't resist. I stayed back out of the way while shooting and no one came after me to take my camera.

Happy Fourth of July!

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The Fourth of July has long been one of my favorite holidays, even though I frequently do absolutely nothing special. I get all misty over the stars and stripes and love celebrating our national birthday even it's a private and quiet celebration at home. For those who plan to attend a display this year, I ran across this article on photographing fireworks. By next year, we will be all settled in Bear Valley and they have a wonderful big, old fashioned Fourth celebration, parade and all. I will put these tips to good use, I hope. Here's the link.

Shooting RAW

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Michael Tapes says we all shoot RAW. If you feel like quibbling, check out this very short video at his site. I have already admitted that I drank the Kool-Aid a long time ago and am completely committed. I would never go back to shooting jpeg, even though I understand the reluctance to add to the processing workload and the suspicion that it’s a waste of time and pixels (I was there for a little while myself). I found the video interesting. Again, the video is only a few minutes long. If you have strong feelings one way or the other, it's not likely to change your mind, but check it out.