|Tiny cars driven by old geezers / Baby G holding his baby g.|
Lately in my dreams, I have been seeing in still picture. Sometimes I look at images I have captured in my past, or the photographs I am currently working on bringing to life in the darkroom will dance around the forefront of my mind. Sometimes when luck has it, I get to look ahead--at the images I have yet to capture but will in good time.
This past evening while observing Andy Shauf croon on stage firsthand, I took one snap of him full flash and another without. Then one of the pianist and eventually one of the bassist's left Beatle boot trying to decide which pedal to hit for the last song of the night, "Wendall Walker". As I framed up those boots, I remembered I had already taken their picture once before.
While life is good and busy, photowork seems to trump any and all other activity. I work at school and then come home and work in the darkroom when the spirit leads. Sometimes it feels like pulling teeth, the process of intention and its dance partner, old follow through; getting down there and setting up the flow can be paintful. But when it happens, it is for good reason. The pleasantries of a quick-found work rhythm far outweigh the angst of entering the darkroom in the first place. I guess I have come to the conclusion that I have too much work and need to slow my intake to a trickle.
WINTER IS GOOD FOR CATCHING UP.
Wedding season has closed for the time being and it feels really good to rest the rigs. The Kiev gave a hearty hurrah (as if on comedic cue) as her parts began to literally pop off with each slap of the mirror. Ahhh yes. Rest. Time to rest old girl. In the coming year, I hope to focus my camera on more experimental editorial lookbooks and many, many more Down Home family portraits. Time to volunteer with big kids!
As I age, the clearer the realization becomes that my print work is my own. It's not technically clean or beautiful compared to some, but it's my hand work directly connected to my brain which is throwing the switches up there and ultimately putting ideas down on light reactive magic paper and it doesn't get much more damn truthful than that. Sometimes I wish I had more gumption to get up and go, do more, but I'd rather be at home. No fear of missing out.
In other news, after a long time apart a new stencil is carving itself out on the old glass top. It's long and lean. A personal philosophy spelled out in longish hand. While working on it in a blind rage the other evening, I lay down the blade at one point and uncapped a Sharpie and began drawing my usual lady in profile, in a dress, holding a hanky and wearing strange 90's sun shoes. Clearly, it is time to start drawing again. I have forgotten how. The sun shoes and weirdly proportioned toes and fingers tell me so. Every time I pass through the Piano Room I laugh with a single glance to the work table and that funny lady lying there. So Mote it Be!
Today on my lunch break I braced myself against the first biting lick of cold while bolting southwest and then turned on a dime to duck into the shelter that is Martha Street Studio. I spent my time at the enormous light table in the upstairs studio. Again, it was a call from the Universe to get back to the drawing board. Work on those hands and feet, woman!
|Morden Corn & Apple Festival / portrait of an unimpressed Brownie McGee|
|More Tiny cars and old geezers at Morden Corn & Apple Festival / Grant & Lu|
|A float of old inductees / Nephew Atlas and Uncle Iain reading|
|Rebecca and Arlo in my living room / Atlas enjoying an airplane ride at the carival|
|A bride and her nephew / Petkau drive|