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The busyness enabled by the web — the Facebook thing and its 570 buddies; the several blogs; the unbridled span of artistic and intellectual interests — finally staggered me, and the whole “Bertha-the-Printer” thing (she’s checking herself out by spitting ink as I type) feels like the last straw: I’ve done enough for glory!
My environment may be rich, but I seem to remain ever the bohemian rattling around inside of it.
I haven’t set down the cameras, far from that, but am more inclined to license images than print them (unless there’s an order out there tall enough to cover the complete costs of the work and produce some pizza on the side), to continue shooting for fee (of course), and then, using Amazon’s vendor program, to get started on the next e-book.
Of course, I would like to post commissioned work on this blog, but, alas, as regards the above, I was merely a passenger on someone else’s trip yesterday (see “Statuary, Augusta Memorial Park, Waynesboro, Virginia, April 9, 2013”).
My work has a reliably luminous quality these days, and for that, many thanks to Nikon glass and Adobe software.
Composition: sturdy, formal (most of the time), focused.
Luck: unbelievably good, although I am one of those who believe there is no bad light — in fact, as long as there’s light, there’s visual atmosphere. Perhaps with what I call “response photography” — the photographer as traveler through an environment — atmosphere x subject x depth-of-field x frame becomes the photograph, and atmosphere itself I interpret as location x lighting extant or lighting design. That’s why in “constructed photography” — the photographer as producer who imports into a frame the elements of his work — the determination of mise-en-scene (everything in the scene, visual and intellectual) leans so heavily on building a set and lighting it or discovering a location and working with season and day to construct a moment for recording fit to concept.
Back to luck: if you go out to a garden to shoot flowers and encounter heavy gusts, you might be unlucky. Of course, if you go out without intention other than to find something lovely or worth the film — these days, editing time at the computer — and you catch long colorful stems trembling in the light and blurring here and there at lower speeds, well, you might be lucky after all.
Be all that as that may be, thanks to my friend, I had a good day afield and at times lost among memorials and their elegiac and familiar figures and encouragements.