Those who dwell among the beauties and mysteries of the earth are never alone or weary of life. —Rachel Carson
For several years now, I’ve photographed my wife’s petite flower garden and, lately, a larger patch across from the house we call The Wild Area, because just about anything is welcome to take root there.
Stepping outside in slippers to say good morning to day lilies makes coffee taste better; I have no scientific evidence to support that claim, but on the other hand it is an indisputable fact that an occasional wheelbarrow, topped off with loam or compost or yard clippings, is a cheap ticket for the live performances she presents beginning in the spring.
What do I do with that largesse, hundreds and, eventually, thousands of pictures? Almost unknowingly, it seems, I’ve started a project, wielding a camera instead of a trowel and garden hose. Though our satisfactions are different, the idea is the same. Without them, this would simply be labor, something to fill time until we moved to something else.
It is extraordinary that whole populations have no projects for the future, none at all. It certainly is extraordinary, but it is certainly true. —Gertrude Stein
Touch seems to be as essential as sunlight.
By happenstance, I scanned this Kodachrome of the Golden Gate Bridge this morning—it’s one of a handful of slides that remind me of a brief trip south from Oregon, in May of 1972.
I don’t recall where I stood to take the shot (along the famous piers, most likely), but I do remember that I snapped it because of the sailboat. Perfect timing, in just the right place.
Other memories are provoked by the picture, too, but they’re fading, almost lost. Mental images are like that. That’s OK, though—sometimes it’s better to cross a bridge without looking back. Because…
Sometimes you get the best light from a burning bridge.
Stonehenge was built possibly by the Minoans. It presents one of man’s first attempts to order his view of the outside world. —Stephen Gardiner
Las Vegas is the expression, in glitter and concrete, of America’s brittle and mutating id. —John Burdett
Things change all the time, so why do people make such a philosophical to-do that things are constantly in transition? —Twyla Tharp
Modernity is the transient, the fleeting, the contingent; it is one half of art, the other being the eternal and the immovable. —Charles Baudelaire
Sorry, no scandal here—not yet, anyway—merely the well-worn tailgate of a Studebaker pickup, found at a garden nursery where it enjoys a second life as Found Art.
For flat objects like this, orienting the camera to guarantee sharp details across-the-board is fairly straightforward… when you focus carefully. Most subjects aren’t flat, of course, and present different choices. This time of year, flowers are my favorites; their abstract, whimsical qualities invite selective focus, as these roses did yesterday evening.
You can’t depend on your eyes when your imagination is out of focus. —Mark Twain
Confusion is a word we have invented for an order which is not understood. —Henry Miller