Spring is Around the Corner

Yesterday we had to go to Los Angeles for a couple of appointments and several odds and ends errands. It wasn’t a fun day, but it started out great. Due to a major accident that rendered our favorite route a non-choice, we took the route west out of Tehachapi and headed down out of the mountains into the San Joaquin Valley. At somewhere around two or three thousand feet elevation, we saw our first spring flowers of the year. All I have for proof is an example of my crazy drive-by photography shown above—we were on a tight schedule and stops were out of the question. But, I promise you that those wild flowers—not to mention the blossoming fruit trees we saw down on the valley floor—surely got hope a-stirring in my heart. Spring is on the way.

The trip to Los Angeles yesterday drove home something I had begun to suspect about myself. After living in Los Angeles for over thirty years, I had become completely spoiled to green plants and flowers year-round and I have been missing that part of the southland. But however much I may miss the green of Los Angeles, I have no real desire to return. I sincerely love living in Bear Valley Springs. It is, after all, a bit like living in a state park, and I am incredibly grateful to live in such a beautiful place. I suppose it simply comes down to another example of the many trade-offs we face in life.

I am looking forward to those spring flowers. It was lovely getting a preview—I admit getting pretty excited at the sight, and I may sneak back for another peek in a few days. Meanwhile, I will concentrate on enjoying the last of winter's very special light and beautiful skies.

Fences and Dust Bunnies

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That title may have made you scratch your head. Wait. It makes sense. Sort of. There really is a connection. The material for the fence that will create a pasture out back arrived a few days ago. Don't make me talk about it too much. It's a bittersweet story. Yes, the horses will finally be here at the house. That will save money and right now saving money is a very good thing. On the other hand, a little more open space is gone.

Okay, enough. I have to stay focused. What about the dust bunnies? First, I have to clear up that I'm not talking about the ones that stalk camera sensors. I'm talking about the ones that hide under the couch. Well, in my case they had recently become quite bold and they are no longer just cowering under furniture. Why am I even thinking about dust bunnies? Partly because of emboldened dust bunnies, I have been distracted for a couple of days by the imminent arrival of a house guest. And, that guest is directly connected to the necessity of fences. See, it is starting to make sense now.

By the way, in case it crossed your mind to ask what this has to do with photography? Absolutely. Nothing.

The house guest will be arriving because The Husband convinced his older brother to come visit and help build the fence. Who says my guy isn't a salesman? He's no fool. He read Tom Sawyer when he was a kid. Besides, the Brother-in-Law is an all around good guy.

Meanwhile, The Husband has been working hard for the last few days as helper to an impressive young man who installs fences. I call him impressive because he is a savvy business man and appears to be mature beyond his years. Late tomorrow, The Brother-in-Law arrives and the Young Businessman will have a two-man crew. I have had to focus a bit on some household chores in preparation for our guest.

Boy, am I getting off easy. Dust bunnies are a pain in the neck, but at least they don't weigh much—unlike fence posts and rails.

Demons and Resistance

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How appropriate that after my whining and moaning a couple of days ago, I finally got around to watching Zack Arias’ video that he posted as guest blogger at Scott Kelby's Photoshop Insider. The introduction is silly. That’s fine and fun, at first, but it goes on a bit too long—to the point that I almost gave up. I’m glad I stuck with it. There is so much in the video that resonates with me.

For one thing, I typically struggle with deep and protracted funks in winter. To compound matters, this winter has been a long one for me. I don’t mean just in terms of this funk, but simply far more winter weather than I am accustomed to. Day after day of cold weather (cold to thin-blooded me, at least); too many days with gray, leaden skies; and, dull landscapes untouched by sunlight. We won’t even go into the infernal, inescapable wind. (Note to self: Learn, someday, about this irrational aversion to the wind. Why does it stir in me some mysterious sense of dread, some feeling of disconnected-ness? Why do I identify so much with the trees and the bushes that may manage to remain standing, but look so battered, as they bend and writhe from the incessant flogging? Okay, so I exaggerate for the drama, but we have a great deal more wind here than what I have ever experienced, and it’s not my favorite feature of nature.)

This year’s funk is compounded by the fact that I am still adjusting to not being who I was such a short time ago. I am no longer the passionate teacher who guided and nurtured actors while they engaged the gods of creativity. I no longer enjoy the deep satisfaction that comes from watching actors blossom as they smash through old blocks and soar into new territory. That’s not to say that I didn’t fight my own demons of creativity, as I worked hard to be a more effective teacher. But, I had grown accustomed to those demons. I had wrestled with them for thirty years by the time I retired. We had a decent relationship. They persisted in torturing me, and I never stopped punching back. I even came to know and respect the demons as my allies. They kept me sharp, and never let me even flirt with complacency. Still, every day when I opened my eyes, I knew exactly who I was, and why I was still here.

Now, I have a new collection of demons. I’m not the teacher. I am the student. Certainly, some of these little devils are from the same family as the aforementioned pack, and it’s not as if these fiends are strangers to me. Before I taught full time in Los Angeles, I had faced these critters as an actor. I am familiar with the battle plan. Furthermore, I am an old hand at identity crises. Going from being a strong, healthy, hyper-independent female to one severely limited and needing far more help than I was comfortable asking for—that was an identity crisis. But, that brings me back to another element of Zach’s video that hits a nerve. (Are you following? I know that I am zigging and zagging a lot here.) Way back then as a struggling actor—even after I took that tumble that changed my life, I was younger and stronger and life stretched ahead of me with no discernible end. I wallowed in the false comfort and certainty of unending opportunity to “get it right”. I had not yet begun to face my mortality. Now, there is a demon that will get your attention. This funk is a mean one, and it is attended by a horde of nasty and persistent questions.

Before I wrap up this will-it-ever-end post, I want to clarify that while I am writing about these questions from the perspective of someone engaging in the creative process, I firmly believe that many of these are life questions, human being questions, not just artist issues. I have no doubt that I would be agonizing over similar matters, regardless of how I spent my time. Many of my questions are given urgency for me because I am also going through the all too common dual identity crises of retiring and aging. I have compounded the questions by reengaging in the creative process from an old perspective, but one with which I had, over the years, lost some familiarity. Along with the spring in my step, I’m just plain missing a step or two when it comes to this still new to me dance.

While I am in this questioning phase, I have benefitted greatly by being part of a generous community, and I'm grateful for that. Paul Lester, for example, posted some wise and extremely helpful words on doing the work that attracted several more insightful comments. Gordon may get credit for reigniting this issue with a recent post. Paul was also thoughtful enough to leave some invaluable reminders in comments on my last post. He reminded me of an important lesson that I sometimes “forget to remember”. This battle against Resistance has reliable rules of engagement. As much as we aspire to finally wrestling the gods of creativity into submission, we will never succeed. For me that means that each time we confront the creative process, we find ourselves—consciously or unconsciously—grappling with ourselves and the questions inside us. Too often, the answers don't come easily. More significantly, the answers aren’t always ones that we like. I believe it was Jay Maisel who was asked by a young photographer how he could make his photos more interesting, and Jay responded, “Become a more interesting person.” Ouch. That one gets my attention.

Because we reveal ourselves in every act of creation—there is no place to hide—this is part of the risk, the struggle to create is about so much more than striving to meet technical standards. It’s about facing who we are, what we value, what we are doing, or have so far done with our lives, what we have seen and learned, what we have to say, and for some of us what we have to say, after being around this long. As the years go by, facing those questions shakes your branches and tests your roots with just a bit more fury.

Hmmm. It’s the wind thing again, isn’t it? I seem to have stumbled upon at least part of the answer to one of my questions.

SoFoBoMo is in the Air

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Even before Paul Butzi posted the official website for SoFoBoMo and revealed the specifics about this year’s event, I had been thinking about the hurdles that SoFoBoMo brings up for me. Now, more and more bloggers are talking about the project and a couple of days ago, Gordon McGregor posed an intriguing question about some people’s resistance. Gordon asked, “What’s going on here?” As one of the people who agonizes over this challenge, I feel qualified to ramble on in response to Gordon’s query.

All right, how can this prospect of producing 35 pictures in 30 days and laying them out in PDF form be so challenging? There is no justification for claiming that producing the requisite 35 photos is an overwhelming task—especially in the digital age. I have single days during which I take hundreds of photos. What could possibly be so daunting about coming up with 35 photos in 30 days? Although, producing a decent-looking PDF could pose—did for me—a few roadblocks, anyone who has access to the web can find pages of information that will unravel the basic mysteries of the PDF. Producing the text to go along with the photos certainly cannot be the major barrier. Anyone who is blogging must have overcome most of their fear of putting their thoughts into words that they are willing to publish.

No, the rules and requirements are definitely not the problem. As challenges go, this one is not exactly earthshaking. Then, why in heck does this year’s project create the same anxiety in me that I experienced in 2008? After all, I got through it last year and lived to tell the tale. The requirements for this year are no more stringent than last year’s. There is no doubt that in 30 days I can take 35 photos, write a few words (keep in mind that there is no rule stipulating a minimum number of words in the accompanying text), and that I can produce some kind of PDF. Furthermore, no prizes are awarded and there is no official rating system that could possibly embarrass or disappoint me.

Well, that means that the fear has nothing to do with doubts about whether or not I can meet the requirements of the project and there is no fear of coming in last in some sort of race. The fear is in making choices and facing the completion. The scary part is taking responsibility for what to photograph and editing out the weakest shots. Perhaps even more intimidating is looking at the completed PDF and having to claim it as mine. Looking at the finished work and seeing reflected in it all the technical knowledge that I have not yet assimilated, facing how little I saw, how limited my vision is—that’s the tough stuff.

I’m not exploring my anxieties because I hope the examination will make the fears disappear, but because I hope that facing these issues will help me get through it. Regardless of what I uncover here, I will be probing these questions and agonizing over all this for the next few months. I’m not proud of that—just honest enough to admit that it’s my nature and I am not apt to have a miraculous personality-healing in the first half of 2009.

The truth is simple. If I were to avoid endeavors like this one, I could live comfortably in “some day”. I could rely on “if I had the time” or “I could do that if I really wanted to badly enough”. Everything worth doing incurs risk. The risk in SoFoBoMo is a lot like standing in bright, harsh light and looking square in the mirror. The risk is in completing the project and saying, “This is what I am capable of at this time. This is what I chose to represent my view of my world. I had a month to produce this, and here is what I was able to do. This is what I have to say.” Furthermore, the stakes are higher this year. What did I learn during SoFoBoMo 2008? What have I learned since last year? Have I grown in the past twelve months? There are no outside judges measuring and comparing in this case. The tough judge is that person I see in the mirror.

Okay, I’m scaring myself. I had better go grab my camera and head out for some therapy. After all, I have already signed up to participate in 2009. I’m in again. Angst, or no.

The Day the Lights Went Out in Bear Valley Springs

I had not planned a post on this topic for today, but yesterday afternoon some priorities took a profound shift. At three o’clock yesterday afternoon, we experienced yet another power failure and were without power until midnight. This time the failure came with the sun out, no wind (that, in itself, was a bit of a marvel), and no precipitation or lightning—just a lovely day full of promise. Then click, the power was gone. Since it had been 17 degrees yesterday morning and our furnace depends on electricity, it wasn't a welcome adventure.

This one made a believer out of me. Last night was not a night for a deep and peaceful sleep. When I turned on my computer this morning, I held my breath until it booted, then I checked for files, first, on the hard drive, and then the three external drives that I call into use throughout each day. As soon I verified that everything was intact, I took a deep breath and resolved that, along with all the catch up that needed to be addressed today, I would prepare to purchase a UPS. I know that there are no guarantees in life; still, I would like to know that the next time the power goes off (I don’t think that’s pessimistic—just being a realist, I’m afraid) I will have a few minutes during which I can safely shut down my system.

By the time I had read a few entries during my on-line research, I realized that I was accumulating more questions than answers. It's clear that I will need some help. Since I make no bones about my lack of technical expertise in multiple areas, I will readily admit that I have not previously had a UPS and would appreciate any tips that any of my readers would care to pass on. Anyone got any tips? Devices to avoid? Specifications to consider? Relative ease of setup and implementation? (Please remember who you are dealing with here. Not only is budget a concern, we need to think UPS for dummies.)

Framing Prints and Battling Gnrrr

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Yesterday’s job was matting and framing prints. Since I got only half the prints framed, it’s also today’s job. This brings up another one of those scientific mysteries that some smarty-pants needs to solve. I don’t think I should stick my neck out, having already come up with the theory that deadlines are surrounded by magnetic fields. I was personally dealing with a phenomenon that many of us have experienced. Just as you wrap up a task and are about to pat yourself on the back, you realize that completing that deadline left a vacuum and two brand new deadlines have magically appeared, rushing in to fill that space. Thus, instead of having one less deadline, you have two new deadlines.

Anyway, now I am wrestling with the gnrrr phenomenon—those dust specks and tiny pieces of lint that show up when you are framing a print. Why is it that no matter how much time you spend cleaning the glass for that frame and checking the matte, once you have the matte firmly in place and turn the frame over, specks of gnrrr will have appeared between the glass and the matte. Perhaps the most maddening aspect of this dastardly behavior is that the specks will be drawn to the matte more so than the print. Why? Simple. If the little devils appeared on the print, it’s conceivable that they might not be a problem. Perhaps the speck would disappear in the branches of a tree, or in the grass near the bottom of the print, or the folds of the person’s clothing, fur of an animal. Need I go on? The point is that there are likely to be dozens of places on that print where a fleck of gnrrr could lie unnoticed and remain benign. But, no. That speck will hightail it for the biggest, whitest area under that glass—right smack in the middle of a portion of the matte. Then it sits there and mocks you. “Peek-a-boo! Bet you didn’t see me!”

The most disturbing aspect of this behavior comes clear when you contemplate the ramifications of starting over to get rid of the gnrrr and the (horrors) dire risk at which you place yourself when you must begin over again. For example, the backing board that didn’t want to fit in the frame to begin with, now doesn’t want to budge. It must cajoled, threatened, and pried loose from its death grip. Furthermore, the edges of budget glass are sharp (anyone not on a budget can’t possibly relate to these questions and should retire immediately to drink a very expensive latte, or scotch, or whatever you squander money on these days and just let the rest of us whine in peace, while you browse expensive catalogs and order more toys.) Sharp glass is dangerous to work with and heaven forbid that you get blood all over everything. As if these issues weren’t enough to drive you mad, have you ever noticed how white mattes love leaping from your hand (while you are juggling frame, glass, and matte) to perform a double flip, then land on one corner. (While this is undeniably an amazing sight to behold, it holds the potential for sending you back to the beginning of the entire process. I had a personal experience with this yesterday and was incredibly lucky. The only injury to the fabulous flying matte was a small ding on the landing point that was deftly covered by the frame. This was most certainly not the intent of the matte. Of that I am sure. But, it was a lucky break for me.)

There is another rather striking fact about the behavior of gnrr, indeed all the elements of the framing process. The larger the print, the more glass with sharp edges, and the more certain one can be that there will be a gnrrr attacks. I have matted and framed 5x7 and 8x10, even 11x14 prints with relatively few incidents. Of course wrestling with frames sized for those prints is relatively easy. Currently, I am framing 13x19 prints and the attacks have increased exponentially.

At any rate, I will be back at it today—risking life, limb, and sanity as I go on gnrrr patrol. Maybe I’ll buy a lotto ticket after all and, if I win, I’ll have someone else do the matting and framing next time. In the meantime, pass the latte, please. I need it.

Promotion on a Budget

Yesterday, I ended up, once again, in graphics mode. The note cards that I put together weeks ago had long ago arrived and had been duly celebrated as a new tool in the promotional kit. Then, the Husband’s new business cards and postcards were delivered a couple of days ago. However, while I was still exhaling with relief over the cards (the color and trim passed muster—no yellow-green skin, although the jpg above is a tad disturbing); the horse was still gray; and no pink tint to the farrier’s leather apron), we began re-examining another tool.

We had put together a discount certificate that we were sending to clients along with a thank you note. The certificate allows the client to pass a gift on to a friend. Of course, you may already be thinking, “Gift certificate? Isn’t that hopelessly outmoded? Shouldn’t you be talking about a gift card?” And, you would be sooooo right. Sigh. Sometimes old dogs must learn new tricks. Still, there was another complication: The Husband’s Farrier business doesn’t yet support a budget that would cover the printing costs for plastic gift cards—the skimpy promotional budget was already straining.

Thus, my all too brief period of basking in the successful execution of another assignment (design a more upscale business card to follow the first one) came to a halt, and I embarked on the Gift-Card-on-a-budget project. What I eventually put together (a business card printed on a home printer, then laminated) certainly doesn’t measure up to the sophistication of that gift card you get from Barnes and Noble or Starbucks, but they are a distinct improvement over what we were using. Most importantly, we moved from the past (the certificate) to the present—or closer anyway, and the card does have a plastic feel. Should that be considered good? Yechh. I never liked the touch of plastic. Oh, well. Old dog, etc.

Fortunately, no one expects someone in the farrier business (unless that farrier is also in the retail business, marketing specialized products) to have high-concept and slick promotional tools. While there have been some remarkable advances in the farrier’s craft over recent decades, it is, after all, a business that hinges primarily on some fairly old-fashioned skills. The basic requirements for a good farrier include a strong back (as well as arms and legs) along with the willingness to pursue an in-depth study of equine hoof, bone, and muscle structure. Just as important is a great deal of horse-sense, as well as a tolerance for cantankerous animals who just naturally don’t want to have one foot hoisted up in the air, so some guy can trim and rasp much less pound nails into that horn. Horses have a strong preference for keeping all four feet on the ground, and some aren’t bashful about expressing that preference.

Fortunately, we don’t really need a Nike-level promotional campaign to keep The Husband in competition— just some clean and clear ways to stay in touch with current clients, while adding a few new ones as we go along. So far, progress on all fronts is slower than we would prefer, but certain.

Rainbows and Fruit Trees

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There’s more to the story of last week’s trip to Bakersfield. On the way home—as we left the downpour behind us, we were treated to the most spectacular rainbow either of us had ever seen. This one was significantly bigger than any I had seen including the amazing ones we witnessed in Hawaii many years ago. Furthermore, the colors were particularly intense. It was an unforgettable sight and I don’t expect to see one that rivals it for years to come. I wish that I could have been in a spot and had a sufficiently wide angle lens to show its full glory. The shot above is a reminder for me.

The rainbow and the amazing light that accompanied it, did ultimately tempt The Husband to exit off the freeway for a brief detour. We both needed to escape the traffic and stop, so we could put our full attention on the vision. One thing led to another and, after soaking up the rainbow for a time, we crossed under the freeway on the road to the south side of the 58. The sights there, bathed in that luminous light, provided still more treats.

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Drive-By Photography on the 58

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Last Friday, The Husband had to drive to Bakersfield to pick up an attachment for the tractor and I decided to tag along. Because he needed the trailer to pick up the beast he was buying, I knew that it wouldn’t be all fun and games. Hauling the trailer meant that pulling off the road wouldn’t be easy and I knew that The Husband wouldn’t be keen on taking any detours that might take us to a spot where it would be near impossible to back up and turn around. This would be strictly business.

Still, I thought it would be a good opportunity to spend some time catching up with him, and I always enjoy the drive on Highway 58 from Tehachapi to Bakersfield. I even enjoy seeing Bakersfield, occasionally. It’s not inspiring, but it’s vastly different from my surroundings and it’s the biggest city near us. I thought that I could use the change in scenery. That’s one of the true joys of my new life style. For decades, the idea of simply playing hooky just for the heck of it, was a subject calling for serious soul searching. Now, I can be irresponsible on a whim and without feeling guilty.

Since we have been surrounded by rain storms for the past several days, we weren’t surprised by the rain we drove through. But before the clouds opened, I had fun practicing my drive-by photography shooting scenes along the way. I can’t resist that type of shooting even though the return is quite small.

As I was firing away, I thought a bit about why that type of shooting appeals to me. I think the main draw is that I like the challenge of framing on the fly. The other reason that I don’t attempt to resist is that every so often I get a shot that I like, and those always seem like freebies. After all, I was shooting with nothing more in mind than sharpening my seeing skills, not really expecting keepers. Anything I like, then, is a pleasant surprise. Yes, it’s almost always true that even what qualifies as a drive-by keeper would have been better, if I had more time to do the job correctly. But, those shots are usually taken in spots where it would be impossible to pull over, unless we were willing to set off a multi-car pileup. Whlie they aren’t the shots that I would put in a portfolio representing my work, I always learn from them. Sometimes I enjoy them enough to process them and look at them more than once or twice.

Heck, I even shot through the windshield while it was raining. As long as the shutter button fires, I can't resist shooting. I have no will power when it comes to photography.

Retirement and New Careers

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Since I have been whining here about all my deadlines, I thought I should offer a few specifics about some of my distractions. Several projects that I have been working on called for pictures of The Husband, and the photo above is from a shoot we did a couple of weeks ago to satisfy that need.

All these projects are connected to this life-change that we are pursuing. After years of making a living in a hyphenated career (actor-landlord (theatre owner)-teacher), The Husband decided, quite some time ago, to prepare for a career that would be compatible with our plan to abandon Los Angeles and Tinsel Town. (He still goes on auditions and works some, but the acting no longer ranks so high in that hyphenated list.) With the plan in mind, he apprenticed with a terrific farrier in the San Fernando Valley and began working there to lay the ground work for an escape. Fortunately, he found that he is well-suited to his new line of work and is happy with his choice. Still, it’s an occupation that strikes many as an odd one for someone to pursue after retiring (it’s very hard on the back), but if you knew him well, it wouldn’t surprise you. He’s handling horses, gets to be outdoors, works with his hands, and he is his own boss. All of that suits him just fine.

The catch is that once we got to our chosen destination, he was faced with establishing himself in a new-to-him community. It’s never easy setting up shop in a new location and, while there are plenty of horses in Bear Valley Springs, most of the owners already have settled on a farrier. Still, there is reason for optimism. His client list is growing slowly, but steadily, and we are doubling down on our promotion efforts. Since he plans to limit himself to a small select group of horses (we still aspire to semi-retirement in spite of the dip in the enonomy), we are confident that we will hit our target.

Meanwhile, I am in the midst of a crash course in graphic-design. Fortunately, I had dabbled a bit in the past, but I’m stepping up my game now. My head throbs from all the things that I am learning—not the least of which is being plunged into people photography. I haven’t done much of that and this assignment was different from anything that I had previously tackled. That was part of the fun.

It didn’t help that on the day we needed to get these shots the wind was howling. For me, however, the toughest part of the shoot wasn’t the wind, after all. I spent the entire time on my knees (thank goodness for knee pads) scrunched down at my lowered tripod, one hand on the camera, the other holding an external flash on an Off Camera Shoe Cord (the sun was bright and shadows deep). Believe me these are not pleasant positions for a body that has been through five hip surgeries. My joints don’t do the things they once did. To complicate matters, I had to move me (with all that paraphernalia) quickly each time the horse shifted, swung around, and dictated a new setup. I wasn’t brimming with confidence, but I managed to get some shots that The Husband is happy with and he is a tough critic. He isn’t cantankerous and picky; he just knew what he had in mind.

Now, I’m back to work. This morning, I’m placing some orders. I’m moving quietly because that cluster of deadlines looks restless, and I don’t want that magnetic field stirred up again.