Theraphotography

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If you tried finding the title word in your dictionary or even with your trusty search engine, you didn’t find it, because the term comes from Amy Sakurai’s amazing mind. Amy was kind enough to share her brand-new word with me in her comment on my last post, and I have found that it suits my needs perfectly. Thanks, Amy.

Today, I devoted much of my day to theraphotography. I spend two or three hours out driving around and exploring some new sights. As usual, I have no original ideas—none. The day’s adventures were inspired by all the reading and exploring that has come before, but the four most immediate influences were: Amy’s addition to a photographer’s dictionary, Paul Butzi’s post on finding peace of mind with one’s camera, Paul Lester’s post re. Winter light, and Mark Graf’s post on tree hugging.


Lately, I have been sticking pretty close to home—with a brief foray or two down to Cub Lake which is all of a mile away. Today I definitely needed therapy, and, for me, that meant exploring with my camera. I can explore light without leaving our property, but the tree part definitely involves some travel. Although we have a beautiful view to the northeast, the thing we don’t have much of on our property is trees. I have been missing my ash tree—my twenty-year friend—and I definitely needed to go hug some trees. Anybody’s trees.

So, out I went. My intentions were simple: play with some old ideas, as well as some new ones ; chase some winter light; and lavish love on a few trees. As always, I can’t predict whether the photography part pleases anyone else but me. However, I am certain that the therap(y) part was totally successful.

Lack of Clarity

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Since I have been feeling a little unclear recently, I thought it was appropriate to experiment with impressionistic photos. When I am in a certain frame of mind, I am particularly drawn to experimentation with blurred and indistinct lines created by setting a slow shutter speed and either moving the camera or zooming while shooting. It all comes down to trial and error. I can’t begin to forecast what I will see when I view the results of these experiments, and that unpredictability seems to fit my mood in those instances.

Diversions, Discoveries, and Departures

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Here I am a week after my post mentioning my anxiety clog, a term brilliantly mocked by Gordon McGregor. (If you didn’t follow up on Gordon’s comment and link on that entry from last week, check it out for a great giggle.)

This was a peculiar creative block. Yes, there was some of the commonplace “Everything I am producing is junk, anyway, so why bother” mentality. But this time I continued to take pictures, and I continued to enjoy the process of photographing. I didn’t much like the results I got, but I just kept on shooting. (Where would I be without digital?)

Then, a few days after the creative system plugged up, we had a wonderful houseful of visiting family. On a couple of brief occasions during their stay, I took advantage of their good nature to practice taking some candid portraits. While there were a couple of other point-and-shoot cameras brought out for plenty of snaps, I lurked about taking some shots while people weren’t paying attention to me. Furthermore, since on one occasion we were in very low light, I had an excuse to experiment with bounce flash. I may not post the shots; but, the experience stirred a couple of interests that have been way down the list for me. I haven’t taken many shots of people (except when hired to do so) and I haven’t spent much time exploring the use of flash. I may make some changes in those areas.

There were more discoveries. Two of our visitors brought dogs and being around them reminded me again how much I long to finally have a fenced yard. One evening, everyone else went out for the evening and one of the dogs stayed with me. Having a dog follow me about and lie on the floor next to me, brought back memories—both sweet and sad. It’s time to make some new dog memories.

The more I look at this episode the more I realize it’s really about a number of things—none of them new, none of them simple or logical. On the other hand, not much about the creative journey is simple or logical, in my opinion.

Anxiety Clogs

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Is there any doubt that anxiety clogs up the arteries in the creative system? Recently, I have had something to say each day (not necessarily something that needed to be said, but something I was quite willing to prattle on about). Just a few hours of real world fears, and the system groans to a standstill. Now, the debris will have to make its way through, before ideas flow again.

Fate Has a Sense of Humor

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It’s a rather cruel twist of fate that I got interested in photography. I hadn’t realized that it is a field ideally suited, in many ways, for engineers, computer programmers, and other folks with minds that work in what I find to be wondrous and mysterious ways—ways that I can’t begin to fathom. I remember well what a dreadful shock it was when I discovered that using a camera involves constant encounters with (shudder) mathematics.

Like many others, I’m guessing, who became interested in photography after the digital age was in full swing, I began shooting almost exclusively in Auto mode. Soon, I became dissatisfied with the photographs I got when I left all the decisions to the Canon A70. I developed a keen curiosity about all those other modes that promised better pictures. Talk about naïve. I had no idea that my curiosity would plunge me into a world of swarming with numbers.

Fortunately, or unfortunately (the latter would be in terms of eventual damage to the family budget), The Husband’s youthful years spent in photography school encouraged my belief that I could move beyond Auto and explore the wonderful world of manual mode. After all, I was fortunate enough to have an in-house instructor. But, as soon as I began quizzing the teacher for help, I was stopped in my tracks. When The Husband began to explain terms, my head started to spin and my ears began to ring, He wouldn’t stop spouting numbers—numbers, and more numbers. Every question I asked set him off with the numbers. Numbers everywhere I turned. Aperture? Numbers. And the numbers are upside down, for crying out loud. To get more light you dial in a lower number. Now, that is perverse. Early on, that one put a real kink in my learning curve. Shutter speed and ISO? Stop the numbers, please. You get into flash and all anyone talks about is those infernal numbers. There seem to be no numbers-free zones when comes to operating the camera.

I should tell you that I have never been fond of numbers. Don’t know why. Can’t explain it. Never flunked a math class. Never was humiliated by a math teacher. Makes no sense. I remember clearly coming home from school one day, soon after starting second grade, and announcing to my mother that I wasn’t any good at math. She stared at me with disbelief and said, “How do you know? You haven’t even taken a math class.” I don’t recall knowing how I knew, but I was certain of my facts. Depending upon your philosophy about these things, you may think that because I believed that I wouldn’t be good at math, I created the problem for myself. Or, you may believe that I was precocious for my age and could see the future. Naturally, I prefer the latter interpretation.

Now, I add, subtract, divide and multiply just fine. But, that’s where it stops, thank you. I made A’s in the math classes that I had to take to go to college—but it was only because I was good at memorizing facts. I never had a clue when it came to the actual practical uses of math beyond balancing a checkbook—one of the truly odious tasks in life. I dutifully memorized the material, and then the day after the tests everything I had memorized drained out of my brain leaving behind a fully restored numbers-free zone.

All that math presented a rigorous test of my newly discovered passion and, more than once, I was tempted to abandon the entire venture. I wanted to make pictures; I didn’t want to go back to memorizing math formulas. To this day, anytime I read an article, or a section of a book, wherein the author veers off into helpful rules for shutter speed proportional to lens length, formulas to memorize that will serve as a starting point for exposure in specific types of circumstances, or flash speed sync my brain threatens to lock. I still have to fight the impulse to simply skip over those paragraphs.

And it’s a good thing that I have fought that desire to bail out, because I can tell that a little of the information has seeped into some remote portion of my consciousness. I still couldn’t quote the formulas, and if you quizzed me on any of the “rules”, I would humiliate myself. However, I can see that gradually I have learned to work a little faster and a little more efficiently, even it is all about those icky little numbers. I suppose that exposure (no pun intended) to all those formulas has made a difference—even if they do strike fear in my heart.

Veteran’s Day Thoughts

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In my mind, two of our most important holidays of the year fall in November—Veteran’s Day and Thanksgiving. It is symptomatic of our current culture that these two observations, both of which ask us to be grateful for what we have and to express our thanks to those who made it possible, are mostly ignored. Part of the crush has come from Halloween, an occasion that once belonged to children, but has lately been hijacked by adults eager to abandon responsibility in favor of frivolity and make-believe (along with the right to appear on others doorsteps and demand favors). On the other side, it’s Christmas—a holiday that has, for too many, increasingly devolved into not much more than a shopping spree that creates year-long debt accompanied by anxiety and family tensions. Then, of course, there’s New Year’s with thoughtful celebrations revolving around far too much food and drink, as well as uplifting experiences such as football, keg parties, and hangovers.

I certainly am exposing the old curmudgeon side of my nature here, but these things bother me. Our lives are barren without gratitude, and it saddens me to see this human virtue losing ground to the “gimme” attitude—the notion that because I want it, I am entitled to get it, and someone had better give it to me, now— that is celebrated non-stop in popular culture.

Okay, enough moaning. (I really am not some dour Puritan throwback who deplores fun and celebrating life. Veteran’s Day just seems to do this to me.) I do want to say a big “Thank You!” to all the men and women who have served our country. We owe you a debt of gratitude that we can never repay. Please accept my heartfelt appreciation. When I say my prayers tonight, I will ask to be more deserving of your sacrifices.

In case you are in the mood for a post that honors our veterans, but has a more for uplifting tone—and who wouldn’t be, check Beau Harbin’s post for today.

Morning Walks

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During the summer and autumn mornings, we got out for walks. I often slipped out very early by myself. Unfortunately, it's getting more and more difficult to drag me away from the nice warm house in the wee hours.

The houses up the ridges (such as the one pictured above) got some light snow yesterday. But, I didn't brave the wind and sleet down here to take photos of the scenes. I think I will have plenty more opportunities for shooting snow scenes. Maybe by next winter I will toughen up a bit and get out in the weather more. (Here's a tip: Don't lay any bets on that one.)

Before I return to early morning walks, I have to order a spare battery for the 20D and 40D. I will want to carry one battery in a nice warm pocket, so I can switch out periodically. I just remembered that last winter I bought some of those nifty hand warmers. That will help. (Provided I can find them.) Now, I just need toe warmers and a nose warmer.

Did I mention how cozy warm it is in here when the sun is coming up and there's a layer of frost on the grass? Besides, afternoon walks are lovely.

Stormy Nights and Rainy Days

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It's cold, wet, and windy in Bear Valley Springs. I slept through the thunder and lightning last night (this house has soundproofing that is almost too effective), but The Husband was wakened (he sleeps on the window side) and told me what I had missed. Today there is snow up on the ridges surrounding the valley. Down here it's all about mud. What happened to autumn?!

If I can't discipline myself to buckle down and clean for the houseguests arriving Saturday, it would be a lovely day for some more experimenting inside with my macro lens. Hmmm.

Simple Things

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I wouldn’t mind having a great deal of money to spend on luxuries—mostly the portion I spent on myself would go to camera equipment, but I find great pleasure in simple things. Long ago, The Husband learned that when we took walks together, we often came home with bundles of fascinating twigs, pieces of bark dropped by the trail, berries, grasses, interesting rocks, bouquets of “weeds”, or pine cones.

Did you know that unused file cabinet drawers make excellent storage places for dozens and dozens of pine cones? Yes. It’s the perfect solution when you run out of baskets or space on the mantel. To The Husband’s bewilderment, I probably have one of the finest collections of pine cones on the west coast. You just never know when you will want another and different size pine cone to add to a display.

Our latest collectible item is feathers. With all the beautiful hawks and a number of other birds here, it’s no surprise that we sometimes find a feather near the trail. The Husband, is always the one who spots the prize and, for my tastes, the gift ranks right up there with those pricey roses.

Recently, I mentioned that some days I may be just innocently passing through a room on my way to take care of some honorable chore—you know taking care of business, and bam! Suddenly, I’m reaching for a camera because the light is sweet—or just because I have found such pleasure in one of the simple things in our home, and for no real reason I want to record what I see.

Simple things for simple minds, I suppose.

Big Sky Country

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I love seeing a great expanse of sky—blue sky, purple sky, pink sky, yellow sky, cloudy sky, rainy sky, starry sky, dark sky, bright sky, even gray sky—any type of sky. The first time I visited New York City—having traveled there from central Texas where the horizons are low, low, low—I felt imprisoned in those canyons of skyscrapers. I couldn’t imagine how humans could survive, much less thrive, when they could see only occasional glimpses of a postage stamp-sized sky.

Now I have discovered photography and when I review any two or three folders of my pictures, I am reminded that I will never outgrow my fondness for big open skies stretching over me. One of the major reasons that I am confident of making a happy transition to life in Bear Valley Springs is the abundance of sky.

I enjoyed learning that when the Bear Valley Springs development was first set up as a vacation retreat in the 1970’s, the first choice for a name was, Big Sky. Unfortunately, before that was made official, Montana was given its nickname and that’s how we came to be Bear Valley Springs. As much as I would love to have a wonderful trophy shot of one of California’s brown bears, I haven’t seen any bears here. And, that’s just dandy with me. But, on a daily basis, I look up at the vast sky stretching from low horizon to low horizon and I drink in the beauty of it.

Undoubtedly, my blog will be regularly punctuated with pictures of big sky.