SoFoBoMo Considerations

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It’s not that I haven’t been thinking about SoFoBoMo, but since I can’t get out with the camera, I am still thinking only in broad terms and don’t have any specifics to talk about. Some people are excellent at determining in advance precisely what they will shoot and how their project will look. I can't fit myself into that mold. I will have to start shooting and discover the theme as I go.

All I had committed to was that I would shoot outdoors in Bear Valley Springs possibly as far away as Tehachapi and mostly landscapes with a few macros. Furthermore, I had thought that I would include some of our local critters. Beyond that I had planned to let my discoveries in March and April lead me. I am living in a place that still has many surprises for me, and I look forward to a great deal more exploring.

It turns out that I may have to rethink even my vague plans depending upon my healing time; but, since I had not made a firm choice, that means no major disappointment. Besides, I firmly believe that limitations promote creativity. Whatever physical restrictions I have to deal with may prohibit some things that I want to do; still, those restrictions are likely to force me to try things that I might not have thought about without the boundaries.

I had hoped to start May 1, but it depends now on how mobile I am when I get out sometime next month for a test run. If I have to wait for a June start, that can work, of course. But, I confess that I will be frustrated. On the other hand, I have never lived here in either May or June and maybe June will be a better month for shooting. I will know soon enough.

What it all comes down to, is I know only that I will shoot a project one way or the other. But, I probably won't have even the beginnings of answers to any more of my questions for at least another week.

Hobbled

Because the twisted ankle and foot has taken much longer to heal than I expected, I have been hobbling about on a walker up until a couple of days ago. You can probably guess that I haven’t had many new adventures in the last couple of weeks. The photo above is from last November. I am reaching back into the archives looking for something to post here.

Hobbling about didn’t make it any easier to get ready for the local art show next weekend. Because all the things that I had already framed are on display elsewhere, I needed new pieces for the community show. Fortunately, I had a couple of things that were at least matted, I only needed two new pieces. So far (one piece framed), no disasters to report. (When framing, I always think of Paul Butzi and his colorful descriptions of preparations for a show.)

Surely, by April I will be able to take the camera out. March has been a bust. Oh, well, I cleaned out some old files. I should have gotten more done, but it was a start.

In the meantime, the fence builders have been most productive. The horses have already been using the back pasture for several days, and now the front pasture is fenced. (It would sound more impressive to call them the south pasture and the north pasture, wouldn’t it? They would make them sound much larger than they really are.) Yesterday, the groundwork was laid for the dog fence. That means in the near future, we can get serious about adding a dog to the family. I’m looking forward to that. It would have been nice to have had a dog to keep me company while I moped the last couple of weeks. Heck, I was reduced to watching television. Now, that means I was desperate.

Horses and Fences

By the end of a long day yesterday, the mare motel and the fence were functional. The gates were balanced, hay was in place and all we needed was horses. This morning, The Husband hitched up the trailer and drove over to pick up our guys. It was finally time to set them up in their new home. Upon arrival at the place where they were being boarded, he learned that Lancer and Night had had one last adventure in their temporary quarters. They had managed to push down some fencing, yesterday, (did I tell you?!) and free themselves to roam. The fence they took down was an interior, not exterior, one, and that was fortunate. At least, they were not able to get out on Cumberland Road and cause a major stir. They did create a bit of havoc, however.

It seems that the folks there have a gelding who never has bought that business of no longer being a stallion. Yes, it happens. (Paul L., re. your comment a couple of days ago: take note.) The slow-to-get-it gelding has a herd of mares, and he guards and manages them as would any self-respecting stallion. Of course, Lancer and Night thought it a capital idea to race up and down the fence surrounding the would-be stallion’s pasture harassing him and his mares. It must have been quite a scene. Since Lancer has a badge of courage in the form of an impressive bite on his back, we assume that he got it during the fracas. Night, on the other hand, walked away from the mischief unscathed.

At any rate, they are now on our property munching away at their hay. We’ll see how long it takes these two to find new mischief.

Shelter

We were tremendously disappointed when we had to abandon our plans for a barn. From the beginning, The Husband and I had our hearts set on something smallish and modest, but we knew how we wanted it to look and it was to have been an important part of our new home. The downturn in real estate put that dream to rest. We are keeping it in perspective. As losses go, it may smart; but, it doesn’t rank very high.

Still, we knew it would be necessary to build some type of structure that would provide shelter for the horses. Yes, horses survive in the wild without protection from the weather, but these two guys have lived with shelter all their lives and it’s late in their lives to change that now. I think that I have already mentioned that they will have what is called a mare motel. (They are both geldings—do you think they will mind?)

I haven’t been up to hobbling around with the camera for the last several days, but I managed the snapshot above that demonstrates how far along things are. When it’s done the structure will have walls (on three sides, I think) in addition to the roof. They will get protection from rain and snow in winter, as well as some defense against the wind and some relief from the sun in the summer.

They probably won’t spend much time in their motel. They would much rather be wandering around in one of their two pastures nibbling on grass or leaning against the fence. Horses lean against fences because they know that eventually they can destroy the fence by doing that, and remember the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence. But, the best part is that leaning against fences costs horse-owners money, and if there is way to cost you more money a horse will find it. That’s just how horses’ minds work.

According to the schedule, Lancer and Night will finally be here tomorrow. For them, the transition from Los Angeles to our property in Bear Valley Springs has been a long drawn-out process. It will be nice to be greeted in the morning by not only the sunrise, but the two money-pits, as well.

Shutter Speed at 65 MPH

Recently, Bob Wong asked if I would share a few thoughts about what I have dubbed drive-by photography. Unfortunately, Bob, I’m not your go-to person for technique. But, I’m willing to share further thoughts about my quirky habit.

The first time I started shooting through the windshield, then sticking my head and camera outside the window of the vehicle in which we were traveling, The Husband was incredulous. “What are you doing?”, he asked (the tone of voice said it all). I told him that I was preparing to enter the aerial photography field. He just chuckled and shook his head. In case you have the same reaction, I do have some reasons for this behavior: a. I love taking pictures; b. it helps me practice basic skills without interference from that nasty inner critic; and c. It is a better way to spend travel time than playing the license plate game.

Not surprisingly, most of the shots I take from the car end up in cyberspace. The point of shooting from a moving vehicle was never about making the best possible landscape pictures. (I have my eccentricities, but I’m not that far out there.) I use the time to acquire a better command of camera controls and train my eye to more quickly recognize pleasing compositions.

Partly as a result of starting to squander all those pixels a couple of years ago, I acquired the confidence to shoot in Manual mode. To most people that may not sound like much of an accomplishment; however, in the beginning, I was totally intimidated by that much responsibility for setting exposure. As a relative newcomer to photography, I have too-fresh memories of shooting exclusively in the Auto mode. Later, I continued to use the drive-by sessions for the exploration of other camera functions, including Canon’s focus tracking mode, (AI Servo) and the A-DEP mode.

Those sessions worked for me, because they freed me to step outside my comfort zones. For instance, I couldn’t take a lot of time to think about a shot. The moments were flying by and the circumstances forced me to quickly commit to choices. From the beginning, I had the sense to pursue these exercises with minimal expectations of keepers and all that experimenting, then deleting, toughened me a bit to see shots that didn’t work as just part of the learning process, rather than failures. Early on, I learned that the more I invested in a shot, the more the disappointments hurt. Sometimes the pain would be enough to temporarily shut me down. In other words, after viewing my results, I would put the camera down for a while and fritter away valuable time while my wounds healed. By shooting wild and loose, on the fly, I tricked myself into exploration rather than chasing success.

When I was shooting through the windshield or hanging partly outside the window, it didn’t matter so much if I stank at framing. It was okay to blow it on the exposure. It was no big surprise if I set the shutter speed too slow and the shot was a mess of a blur. I could experiment and toss the results with wild abandon. When shooting from the passenger seat, I wasn’t taking pictures; I was playing. Later, I could get more serious about shooting.

Clearly, I’m not saying that my approach is right for everyone, but it was beneficial to me. I needed a means of dealing with my personal blocks, and this was one of the things that helped me. (I wish I could say that I had totally stifled the voice of that inner critic, but I can only plug away at it.) The bonus of this playing is that, periodically, I am surprised by a shot that I like quite a lot. (Even a blind squirrel finds a nut once in a while, right?) Occasionally, a shot serves primarily as a reminder of a location that I want to revisit and photograph under better circumstances. (The photo above falls in that category.) More often, even the best of the losers are nothing more than pleasant little reminders of the scenery we have enjoyed while traveling. Still, even that is not entirely worthless.

Since I use drive-by photography for experimenting or playing, I don’t have any rules, but these are my general guidelines:

1. I only shoot when I am the passenger. Come to think of it, that one is a rule for me. I know some photographers shoot from the driver’s seat, but I know my limits, too well.

2. I always remind myself that I will discard most of what I shoot from a moving vehicle.

3. I frequently shoot through the front windshield. (This is a great motivation for keeping that windshield clean.) Yes, the windshield is another contributor to degraded image quality. But, shooting out the side window means you have to be more careful to avoid anything close to the vehicle. Even at high shutter speeds, you risk getting shots that are a partially blurred mess. (That being said, if you like the blur effect, you can have a blast shooting this way. On a couple of occasions, I played with this and got some fun pictures not to mention some great material for backgrounds.

So, there you have the confessions of a drive-by photographer. A woman who unashamedly squanders pixels and abuses digital shutter releases to selfishly shoot experimental photos destined for destruction. Just one more sad, but true story.

Out of this World

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Would you believe that I just returned from outer space and needed some time to readjust to the earth’s atmosphere? No? Uh, how about I climbed Everest and needed a couple of days to recover? I have been on a top secret assignment with an organization that I cannot identify in a country I cannot name? Shoot. I was a finalist in the state skateboard championships? I took up bull riding and was out on the circuit?

Rats. I wish I had something exciting to report that would explain my absence. The truth is just plain dull. My doctor put me on an additional medication to even out my blood pressure. (I have been lucky. After years of listening to nurses marvel at my blood pressure readings when I went in for check ups, or whatever, the numbers went up. That didn’t happen until quite late in my life, so I can’t complain. What the heck, I just might, yet.) At any rate, the new medication produced some periodic wooziness that resulted in an opportunity to test the relative hardness of the carpet and the tile segueing from office to hallway. All I ended up with was a sprained ankle and a few aches and pains, but it certainly has cramped my style.

How much has it cramped my style? I have been watching television! Believe me, this is a profound change for me. Mostly these hours spent with the tube has reminded me why I don’t ordinarily spend much time in front of it. I think we have 250 channels with our Dish package, and approximately 240 of them are utterly useless. Channel surfing is clearly a male sport and I have never discovered its appeal; therefore, I am stuck with trying to find something that will distract me for a bit of time. But, hey, what are you going to do when you have trouble mustering thoughts that hang together? Reading? Out of the question. Sometimes, you need something to do the thinking for you. And, isn’t that what television is for?

Besides, I suppose watching the flickering light on the box is relatively harmless. The best part was getting to see one of my students in a rerun of NCIS that I happened to catch. Today, my brain seems to be working again—in spite of all those episodes of and House and NCIS. I am fairly certain that I detected the firing up of a neuron or two. It could be a false start, but I am hopeful. At any rate, I am willing to contemplate tackling something more demanding than a two-sentence comment on someone else’s post or comment.

What Are Friends For?

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Recently, I whimpered in public about what I put myself through when faced with the challenge of completing a photography project. I admit that I sat on that post for some time, reluctant to share such personal doubts and the particular fears that I confessed. It turns out that it was one of the best things that I could have done for myself. Some bloggers left comments on my site and a number of others posted commentary on the topic at their blogs. All of it was incredibly helpful. This experience was another reminder that if you would like a little help, you might try asking for it.

Not surprisingly, the oft-repeated theme in the responses was “simply get on with the work.” I admit that it’s an annoyance to need reminders of this simple fact, but there we are. There are times, thank goodness, when I simply need to remind myself. Then again, there are times when the reminder has more impact coming from others. That’s especially true when colleagues share that they have occasionally needed to jog their memory, as well.

What I am celebrating is that this spilling of my doubts and admissions to getting blocked spurred even more than the invaluable reminders that there is no way around the wisdom of just doing the work. I got a welcome chorus of admonitions to “Buck up and get on with it”. (I felt a little like one of those characters in a movie who is falling apart and when slapped by the common-sense hero, the now clear-eyed fellow says, “Thanks, I needed that.”)

The bonus was that I got more in the way of coping techniques than I hoped for. A major contribution came in the form of an excellent and most helpful statement by Martin Doonan. I’ve pulled a few lines from his post, but you really need to read the entire thing (along with a number of other posts, by the way). Martin says that starting is never a problem for him and adds that like some others he likes to “get going, prove stuff can be done, extract the goodness and move on.” He goes so far as to say that he is “not a completer.” Then he pulls it all together with this first-class lesson.

"I've learnt that to complete stuff, I need to make the end run easy on myself. Line everything up ready for a quick blast for the finish line…
thus my key strategies for getting projects done: having confidence in my ability to do the thing and clearing the path for an easy finish." (emphasis, mine)

Bingo. The simple, and ever so smart strategy, of anticipating the potholes near the finish line is useful enough, but what had the most impact on me was that reminder that confidence plays a critical role.

Then, the full “Whack on the Side of the Head” came while chatting (in comments) with Niels Henriksen about his

February 17 post:

“I don't know why I tend to criticize myself for learning when I know that I am still a beginner and therefore I shouldn’t expect so much. Part maybe that in other activities I am better and therefore subconsciously I tend to think the next activity should go as well.”

Duh. I knew better than to compare myself to others. But, I have been making a mistake that is just as disastrous. While I haven’t done it consciously, on some level I have been measuring my skills as a photographer against my skills as an actor and teacher. Never mind that I had spent multiple decades honing those skills.

Now, thanks to Niels and Martin, I know that when I wrote (in that whine) about missing teaching, part of what I was missing. I craved that confidence that I had earned over decades while working in one field. Even though I continued to work hard at honing my skills as an actor, then teacher, I knew for a long time that I was building on a solid foundation. Of course, what’s most embarrassing is that I seem to remember giving advice very much like this to people I coached in the past. Lesson learned and re-learned.

After chewing on these revelations for a few days, I thought about the many books on productivity and creativity that I have consumed. Those books made a major difference in my teaching career and have thus far served me well in my new passion. But, this business of carrying on conversations with individuals who are currently more involved in doing the work rather than talking about the process from the position of the instructor have something to offer that is difficult to find in books. There is a freshness and rawness to these conversations that rarely makes its way into books. The book-editing process is a valuable one, but sometimes it sucks part of the energy and flavor out of the material. The academic voice often creeps in and stifles the humanity of the speaker. There are some amazing people writing on the web, and I am learning more than I ever expected to by following a few of the passionate photographers who are willing to write about their process.

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.