I’ve discovered the power words have to tell a story from my experience of journaling, reading books and writing and reading blog posts. Words have the ability to touch something within the writer and the reader. I’m seeing words as lovely seeds within each of us that make these stories. And, these stories come to fruition only when they are nurtured to life through our actions of writing them and sharing them. This blog post would not exist unless I write it and post it. Whether it’s content is good or bad is irrelevant. So at this time in my life, I’m comfortable to sit before a blank page in my journal or sit before a blank monitor and ask for words to share. It’s all a creative pursuit. Have a great week!
The photographer is an armed version of the solitary walker reconnoitering, stalking, cruising the urban inferno, the voyeuristic stroller who discovers the city as a landscape of voluptuous extremes. Adept of the joys of watching, connoisseur of empathy, the flâneur finds the world “picturesque”.
Susan Sontag, 1977
This morning I found myself writing the following in my journal, “I’m not a street photographer….” I immediately said, “Wait a minute dude, where did that come from?” I needed to ask what I meant by that, was that a true statement and what is a street photographer. I have over the years taken many images that are defined by Sontag’s definition of a photographer without the adjective of street or wedding or portrait or fashion, placed before it. The truth is I’m a photographer, period. When I have my photographer’s hat on, my camera and lens become an extension of me, and I am now the flâneur who finds the world “picturesque” whether that’s a street scene or sunrise on the prairie or a car show.
For any who want to know: Flâneur is a French term meaning ‘stroller’ or ‘loafer’ used by nineteenth-century French poet Charles Baudelaire to identify an observer of modern urban life. The above image of the statue of the dog was taken at a street car show in Little Rock, Arkansas in 2008.
I noticed the other day that John Strong had mentioned he was going to be displaying his Aspens in Autumn tiles at the Larkspur Art Show. After reading about it I decided to make the trip down, meet him and check out his booth. So, Saturday morning I awoke to 34 degrees and our first frost of Fall 2014. This may be a cold day for the show but after checking the weather I grabbed my backpack and headed down. It’s only about a two hour drive to Larkspur and turned into a nice drive. Some traffic in Denver on the way back but it was worth it. John has a nice setup and he’s done a good job printing and mounting his images.
Like many of us in the blogging world, John and I had never met. I found his booth right away and introduced myself. It took him a few seconds to register who I was since he was not expecting me. I any conversation would be interrupted as customers came in and out, and I was correct. Since I had my camera I wandered around and let John greet his prospective customers. Working shows like this requires the interaction and a positive part of doing it. I like the idea of handcrafted items since so many things we purchase are mass produced in some factory. Yes, that includes the material we make our crafts out of. 🙂 And, there was some nice handcrafted merchandise for sale. Some were working on their craft while at their booths so you got to watch them. Plenty of food was available. There was booth with these jars of apple/maple syrup for toast or pancakes and offering samples. I could just eat it right out the jar. They had a slide setup for the kids with several of us adults attempting to sneak on. Sorry, John we did not get as much talk time as would have liked but we do have the opportunity to setup a meeting. I think you have good work and liked how your booth looked. Hope the day went well for you.
We landed in Burlington yesterday around noon and were greeted with cloudy skies, temperatures in the mid 30’s and a mix of rain and snow. Not the sort of day to plan a picnic. But heck I’m in Burlington, Vermont and the downtown area of known as Church Street has a fascination with me. As I had not eaten all day I ventured down there with camera in hand looking for a photo or two and a sandwich. I’m glad to say I found both. After a couple of hours of walking the streets, pressing the shutter button a few times and window shopping, I stopped in at a coffee shop. I ordered a hot apple cider as it seemed like the perfect drink for the season and the cold day. Sitting at the table next to me were two young girls. I noticed the one girl raise up a camera and take a photo of the other girl. But wait, something was different.
The sound I heard when she took the photo was different. What I heard was the shutter and then I heard her wind the camera and cock it for the next shot; it must be film I hear. Turning to look I noticed she was shooting a Canon AE-1. Being the nosey individual I am, I poked my nose in the middle of their conversation and asked a few questions about the camera. I discovered they were high school students and one of them was taking a photography class. The camera belonged to the school and her assignment for the week was to shoot black and white images of family and friends. She enjoys photography and by all indications will for many years to come. Anyway, I asked if I could take a photo of her taking a photo of me. she agreed so here is “The Photographer.”
I stayed with my oldest daughter, Christine and Cody, last night. After a couple of cups of coffee and some quality chat time with Cody I headed back towards town and noticed this old trail wagon with Longs Peak breaking between clouds. As any obsessed photographer, I made and illegal u-turn and then parked illegally to take 5 images. 🙂
I read a blog by David deChemin on the definition of a photographer. I resonated with his thoughts and perspective and had to rethink about using that title on myself. Am I a photographer?
There was a time when I struggled with calling myself an engineer. I worked for 27 years in engineering and was paid the salary of an engineer, whatever value a company may place on that job. Yet, I am me, an individual with so much more than just a title or label. I now work as a flight attendant so does that make me a flight attendant? Yes, while working at that job I am a flight attendant as well as being me. I’ve been called a son, brother, husband, father, a grandfather, a friend and even a few unprintable labels. Am I any of those? Yes, even the unprintable. Yet, I am still me. So what defines me as a photographer?
I have made money with my photography so does that make me a photographer? I carry my camera with me almost everywhere I go, does that make me a photographer? At this juncture of my photography, I believe when I take the time to create an image rather than take an image, I am a photographer. When my eye sees an image within the mundane, I’m a photographer. We don’t have to make money with it. We don’t have to have a business name or business cards. Although those sure won’t hurt. In the above image, my eyes noticed the solitude of the trees and the windmill against the western clouds while driving on a farm road in the Texas Panhandle. I stopped the car and worked my way around the scene to find a view that fit my vision of the trees and the windmill. This view works for me and hopefully for others. What about you, are you a photographer?
“Whether he is an artist or not, the photographer is a joyous sensualist, for the simple reason that the eye traffics in feelings, not in thoughts.” by Walker Evans
A sensualist can be defined as someone who derives happiness from the pleasures of the senses. Evans quote caused me to ask if I’m a sensualist? Yes. As a photographer, I enjoy the time spent in nature with my camera or working with someone during a portrait session. When I am working at creating an image I am seeing with my eyes, passing messages to the brain and heart as they work together. Feelings arise within me: joy, excitement, contentment. At those times I am living the present moment and have my focus on what is in front of me.  The feelings keep me there.
