I love the physicality of photography.
You can throw your whole body into a relationship with the natural world
and come out sweaty, dirty, scratched, stung, with frizzy hair . . .
and realize that you’ve never felt happier.
I was excited to see the first anemone bloom in my own flower garden. I didn’t want to cut the flower and “take” the picture, so I experimented with ways to receive the picture in its natural environment. In the early evening, I tried placing a large piece of white paper behind the plant as a background. This gave some really interesting shadows as the last of the day’s sunlight came from the front, directly onto the bloom. The next day, early in the morning, I placed my black cardboard background behind the plant. The light in the morning is softer so there were no shadows on the background. But the flower had less “pop” and the image seemed a little flat, so I converted the picture to black and white to give more contrast. This result was lovely and kind of romantic in an understated way.
I think the color version of the anemone may well find its way into my florilegium project. We’ll see . . .
I’ve been tossing around the idea of working with black and white images. I am especially intrigued with the possible ways that color and black and white images might work together in the same body of work. Would this be abrupt and unsettling? Or would the black and white images add an element of surprise and joy? Maybe the black and white images would ground the work, connect the color images to the universal process of seeds to blooms?
These are the kinds of questions that call for creative connection. It can be lonely and limiting working through these considerations all by myself. Having someone to talk through these questions, someone to give a fresh perspective, someone to teach and advise, and encourage. This is what I feel like I need. I’ve signed up for mentoring sessions with an incredibly gifted artist, Sal Taylor Kydd. We’ll start our work together next week, and I am eagerly anticipating the process. This is an investment in myself.
“If you’d quit the moment the reward didn’t show up, you’d have quit a long time ago. You’re still here. Still making things. That’s not because you’re winning an imaginary (or real) prize. It’s because some part of you loves the doing, and that’s the most important part we must protect. ”
