Walk With Me in My Yard

Photographer Tomasz Trzebiatowski posted a delightful video showing a “quiet moment” in the woods. He walked for ten minutes, took twenty photos, then assembled his experience on YouTube. 

Lately I've been spending most days on the computer. I accomplish necessary tasks but certainly not the physical movement, observation skills, deep-breathing, and head-clearing that Tomasz' walking meditation offers. It felt gratifying for me as a photographer to see what moves him to capture an image. What I noticed while watching his video is that his peace became my peace. Immediately afterward, I set my alarm for 10 minutes - not sure why I wimped out with time - and stepped outside into my yard.

I looked around at what surrounds me every day but that I don’t necessarily observe. Halfway into the exercise my cheeks were beginning to ache. I’d been smiling the whole time! For a moment I stood still, eyes closed, feeling immeasurable gratitude - for my

health, my home, my passion for photography and, for that matter, Tomasz and other artists who generously share their vision. If you wish, you can check into his worthwhile photography community at Frames Magazine.

Back at my computer, I downloaded ten photos, then processed them in black and white

as Tomasz did. Black and white has always been my preference in most cases. By emphasizing form and texture, those images often have more visual and emotional impact. This wasn't about seeing my yard as much as embracing detail and form.

These ten photos are simple and honest. I hope you enjoy them. Might you try this exercise? If you do I'd love to hear about it.

No Barns, No Mannequins

In photography school, we had a professor who forbade us to photograph barns or mannequins for class assignments. In Michigan, where I lived at the time, barns were ubiquitous. Each one of us believed we could produce the best barn photo ever. Personally, I was drawn to those that were falling apart. The more

dilapidated the better. But I could see that, depending on the light, red barns could

be as delicious as apples. He was sick of it. No barns, red or otherwise.

Mannequins? “They’re too easy” he insisted. Mannequins do what they’re made

to do which is, of course, model outfits we surely want to buy. If we're lucky,

a few will congregate in a corner. Stripped bare, they reveal cracks, seams, and blemishes. Like all of us, imperfect. What’s not to love?  

Years ago I exhibited a photo collection of vintage dolls using the same trope of

imperfection and secrecy. A few years later I wrote a short story about them which eventually became the basis of my second film Apotheosis. You can view this

10 minute film at apotheosisshortfilm.com

And now I'm going to head to an online thrift store to purchase George Bennett's

1977 book Mannequins. I've had my eye on it for awhile.

Lesson of the day: photograph whatever you want. Who knows, maybe it will be the

best photo ever.

Braving Bubbles

My 12 year old niece Maddie first became interested in photography in the 3rd grade.

Her art teacher, Ms. Devin, let her take some photos with a “Canon-something” in a chapel. Maddie focused on the stained glass windows. She learned she could look at them from various angles, picking up on different lighting. Although Ms. D. didn’t teach photography per sé, she always had a camera with her. The classes focused on drawing, painting, and pastels. “She showed some episodes of Bob Ross” Maddie said, adding with a smile “Happy little trees.”

Maddie had been playing with a bubbler maker, and that prompted an idea. She was a

good sport when I asked if she'd pose for me because she prefers taking photos rather

than being the subject, It was difficult for her not to wiggle or laugh.

Her mom blew the bubbles while I directed “Higher! Lower! Closer!”

“It was weird to see all those bubbles going by my face and interesting to notice how

[Aunt Jane] went about taking lots of shots.” Examining 57 images, there were 3 clear winners. I explained to her that when there is action, in this case unpredictable bubbles,

you never know if or even when all the elements will align magnificently.

Unfortunately, Maddie's art teacher this year isn’t as inspiring. "He doesn’t even act like he loves art. He is 42 year old and looks like he’s 60. He’s grumpy, never smiles and barks instructions as if he’s in the military. But he has a Yoda beanie, so there’s that.”