“It Looks Like A Painting!”

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As a photographer who began with film and will end with digital, the advances in the medium’s technologies (especially computer software) have transformed it in ways I didn’t imagine even ten years ago—is it photography? Illustration? Painting? The lines have blurred; whether you believe this has been an improvement or not will determine your approach to art.

With photography, you’ve captured a moment in time – it’s that moment only – and in painting, you play with it; you manipulate how time is presented. It’s about fantasy and illusion and the creation of desire.  — Mickalene Thomas

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Temporary, Once Again

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Every season is a rehearsal for next year.

When in doubt wear red. — Bill Blass

Autumn Icons

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I would rather sit on a pumpkin, and have it all to myself, than be crowded on a velvet cushion. — Henry David Thoreau

Voluptuous

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Showing her age but still smiling, a full-bodied example of roadside advertising survives from an era when rounded usually meant but one thing.

I was the first woman to burn my bra – it took the fire department four days to put it out. — Dolly Parton

The Glow Of Forgotten Grandeur

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They were two impressive leather chairs, languishing in shadows where the stairway twisted between floors in an elderly Montana hotel. Adjacent to them, sharing royal red and gold carpet, an upright piano waited for a song.

Their town is small, set amid historic and geographic hot spots; you have to want to be there, and there were few guests the night I stayed. No one ran their hands over the smooth, time-worn arms, no modern bottoms felt the deep satisfaction of sinking into the cushions. The piano remained silent.

But, for a few precise moments, as evening peered through a tall window and I paused in the hallway, the glow of forgotten grandeur reappeared, and history sang softly in my ear.

Morning On Main Street

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The market town of Sedburgh, Cumbria, England, is widely-known as “The Official Book Town of England“—and if you’re up and out early, it’s also a quaint place to fetch the morning paper and snacks.

Ever wonder where you’d end up if you took your dog for a walk and never once pulled back on the leash? — Robert Brault

Time Passing

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Thompson’s Flouring Mills, the oldest surviving grist mill in Oregon, viewed through a window in the Millkeeper’s house, and (below) the millrace passing below the main building during a rainstorm.

Millrace on a rainy November day, 2012, seen from the office windows.

People everywhere love Windows. —Bill Gates