You may have noticed that I revisit the same subjects and scenes in my photography. It could be that I do that because I have limited access to new subjects and scenes. Or it could be that I both lazy and have limited vision.
But it occurs to me this morning that, though there may be a grain (or a bolder) of truth in in this, the real reason is that as I improve as a photographer, I keep wanting to go back and improve on the photos I have taken. Whether the improvements are visible or worth the time and effort, I can’t say. I’ll admit that photography for me is sometimes more about the experience and process than it is about the result. Talk about right brained. . . .
What I like about this “ordinary rose” is the texture in the catchlights in several of the drops of water. How did that happen? By accident, of course. In the process of experimenting with a honeycomb grid on a medium soft box, I discovered that the grid shows up like window panes in several of the focused drops. I like it even if you don’t.
I also like how I spent 10 minutes in Photoshop moving one of the drops because I thought the balance in the photo would be improved. I figure that the drop is less than 3mm in size. But in the macro world, that is pretty big. Which drop? I’m not telling. . . . It ends up being one of the “1000 unseen details.”
TS Eliot was wrong. Februrary, not April, is “the cruelest month.” At least for me. Yes, the days are getting longer. Yes, the temperature ocassionally soars into the high 20s. But it is often in the heart of February that what I think is SAAD (seasonal affective disorder) hits me. And I lose my will to post new photos to this blog.
So I’m posting old stuff. . . But, in the event that you haven’t meticulously looked at all four years of my posts, you’ve probably never seen some of these. So maybe they’re not old.
Red roses are a symbol of love in our culture. So sending roses is an act of love, I guess. And I’ll admit that fresh, red roses beautifully arranged are hard to beat. But they’re expensive. And they are ephemeral: if a fresh rose symbolizes love, what does a wilted, drooping rose suggest? I’m not even going to suggest the possible answers to that question.
But these roses will never wilt. So that’s why they are “better than the real thing.” Feel free to share them with someone you love. . . .
Somebody gave my wife a dozen roses, which gave me a photo opportunity. Did I buy the flowers? Nope. Kim did.
I wandered into our backyard looking for color in the soft morning light. I found color. But instead of subdued light, I found a couple leaves lit by the angular sun. And this relatively bright light also brought out the texture of these leaves.
I say it over and over, but I like the fact that photographers have the power to get people to look at things that would otherwise be missed. These small raspberry leaves, in their last days before our long winter, would most likely be ignored.
I have said that because the human brain doesn’t see frames around things, photographers manipulate reality simply by framing a subject and clicking the shutter. I have also said that as a rule, I don’t like to use software (such as Photoshop) to further manipulate reality.
But guess what? I have been learning new things in Photoshop and this tulip photo and the one from yesterday are results of fairly heavy “altered reality.” What have I done? It involves layers and blending options.
But forget about that. Instead, I hope you like the dark, mysterious look and the deep tones of the reds and greens in these tulips, which I found growing between two buildings on my morning walk in St. Paul last Sunday.
I’ve read that some scientists say there is no such thing as chaos – that Nature, in it’s apparently random state, is really ordered and predictable. Smarter people than I will have to find order in today’s jumble of berries and branches. And quite honestly, I don’t mind a little chaos. . .
I was in the garden early this morning looking for frosty leaves and as I was heading back into the house, I saw these leaves, which were illuminated by the strong sunlight just making its way into our yard. I took a few shots, not knowing what I’d get.
This photo is evidence that what I conceive of capturing with my camera and what strikes my eye are often two different things. I guess that’s serendipity and I can live with that.
This vine is at its best when it’s green – when it is busy doing its photosynthetic thing. So there is an irony in the fact that it looks best when it is about to give up its efforts for the season. That’s true of almost all leaves, I guess.
I am fascinated by these fuzzy red flowers growing in my wife’s garden. I believe they are called bee balm. I suppose they are so named because they nourish the bodies and souls of the bees that visit them. I think the flowers are past their prime right now and so they look a little bedraggled. Thus the title today. They look a little like my kids looked when they woke up when they were little – hair all over the place.
I took this photo with my Canon 70-200mm zoom and was once again impressed with its ability to smoothly blur things in the background – especially when I’m shooting with a 2.8 aperture.
I’m not sure this is a good photograph, but I like the fading red flower. If it had a face, it would probably look a little confused.