A republishing of an old favorite that always reminds me where the path of happiness lies and how far off it I may be at any moment.

 

Happy Valentine's Day. Go photograph someone beautiful. Now!

Brock's Books in San Antonio.  Long gone.  Some battered, old camera with a 28mm 3.5 lens 

and a roll of ISO 100 color slide film.

Falling in love.  Being in love.  Loving what you do.  Love. I think that's why we really photograph.  Until we get sidetracked by the gear and the process.  I love beautiful faces.  I got into taking photographs because I was dating someone who I thought was so beautiful that her face should be immortalized.  Made into art.  Frozen in time so I could admire it for a lifetime.  My lifetime.  That romance didn't last but new ones came along.  And all along I recorded the things that I thought were most beautiful about my partners with my little camera.  

In the early times I didn't really care about technique or cameras at all.  I just wanted the images to be sharp where I wanted them to be sharp and well exposed in a way that worked for me and matched what I was trying to say.  I learned just enough to make a competent photograph.

"Mastering Technique" is where the downfall begins.  I'm sure it's a satanic plot to undermine the art that makes us happy.  We read a magazine or talk to other photographers and we hear stuff about how our pictures can be even sharper or less grainy or more bokeh-y and we start down a path that leads us away from our objects of beauty and into a nested doll of endless intertwined details.  And we never ask why our art has to conform to someone else's idea of better.

And the more we embrace the mechanical techniques the further we travel away from our original muse. The thing of beauty which we loved and wanted to share.  But we convince ourselves that, in the end, we'll create much "better" work because it will be sharper and less grainy and better exposed.

But in the end it's as though we took our object of inspiration and put it under layer after layer of gauze.  Each layer of technique we apply pushes the object further way from any sort of direct and emotive response on our part until it becomes merely a foil for our new infatuation with the craft.

When the devils succeed in corrupting our inner artist completely we look for subjects not because they strike a chord in our hearts but because our science brain tells us they'll make a good package on which to show off our skills at wrapping.  At covering up the real gift with a new layer.   "I don't care what might be in the box...."  We're saying, "But look at what a good job I did with the gift-wrapping!!!"

And before we know it we're far afield from our original captivation.  We're separated from what we loved by the knowledge that we can do more.  Even if we never needed to do more in the first place. Our original passion is side-tracked by the promise of "just a little more control."

At some point the sheer weight of our tools and the exhausting burden of continuing to learn new ways to show off dulls us to the joy and effervescence of our original undertaking: To celebrate the object of joy we've encountered.  To translate our love of beauty into something we can share.

And that kills photography for all of us.  I am envious of the people I know who resisted learning more about the "how to."  I am envious of the people who've found the one object of beauty in their lives that makes photography such a wonderful art.  I am envious of Harry Callahan's long photographic study of his wife, Eleanor.  I am envious of Henri Cartier Bresson's single minded love of capturing the world around him, unencumbered by "what's new in the bag."  "What's state-of-the-art." and what might make a good foil with which to show off this new technique.  

I am slow and witless and as easily led as the next photographer.  And yet, today, I can look through stacks and stacks of images I've done of buildings and food and executives and models and I don't feel the slightest spark.  But when I crack open a box of old black and white prints and look into the faces of the people whose beauty struck me to the point that I wanted to capture it,  and the faces of the people who I love and cherish I feel flush with excitement.  A thrill resonates through my heart.  And I realize that this is what I should have been doing all along.

Forget stitching shit together in Photoshop.  Forget crunching meaningless frames of shiny colored reflections of puddles into another HDR placemat.  Forget so sharply rendered that it cuts into my iris.

Remember what it was like to love and honor the subject in front of your camera because that's all that really matters.  That's where the real art lives.  It's about discovering the beauty you cherish, not imitating a weak, cultural construction of beauty manufactured from clever tricks.  And it's certainly not about the camera, the lights or the postprocessing.

The image you have in your mind, when you look at what it is you consider most beautiful,  is... everything.  Your longing to photograph was originally an attempt to preserve that precious moment of beauty and insight for yourself.  Or to be able to share it for a lifetime.

Everything that came after that, the camera bags, the lenses, the super straps and the endless stream of lights and cameras, is a wedge that pushes us further away from the original truth.

Go out today and find the thing you love.   The person.  The son or daughter who makes you smile and brings tears of happiness to your eyes.  The wife or husband who brings a feeling of warmth and belonging into your life.   The friend who stood by you when you were in the hospital or deep in debt.  Find your beauty and then share it with yourself.  That's the miracle of photography.

That should be our assignment right now.  That should be our picture of the day.  Everything else is just a job.  

In its purest form our photography is a celebration of love.  And everyone's love is different.

Happy Valentine's Day.

Always looking for silver linings. Always.

 

It's never fun to get blind-sided by one's own frailties. Kidney stones come at you out of left field and take a divet out of your week; that's for sure. Man, they can really hurt! But it seems like with most short term setbacks there is an opportunity to discover silver linings sprinkled throughout the process. To wit: my spouse immediately dropped everything to totally support me on every front. From a long night in an emergency department at the hospital to making me peppermint tea with mango infused honey at 3:30 in the morning to soothe a cough. She acted as chauffeur for trips to my doctor and even rushed out yesterday to acquire for me a large, vanilla milkshake from my favorite burger joint. I didn't have to go to the pharmacy to pick up prescriptions; she was already on top of that...  Even this morning, though i was feeling much better, she insisted on going along on a walk --- just to be sure.

And yes, I am feeling SO much better today. Miraculous.

More silver linings... everyone bitches about healthcare in the USA but not me. Not at all. I skated through the onboarding process at the ER in about five minutes and was seen in triage five minutes after that. I was in an exam room two minutes after triage. I got prompt painkiller meds and was seen by an attending physician, a P.A., an ER nurse and a radiology tech. My CT scans were sent directly to the night shift of a radiology client I've worked with for decades and the results came back less than 30 minutes later. Which cut lots of time of "care lag" that gets induced waiting for results. But the promptness had nothing to do with my relationship to the radiology practice. The radiologist had no idea who I was or what my relationship to his company is. 

Everyone I dealt with at the hospital was kind, patience, take charge and professional. At times, when they would bring in warm blankets, etc. I felt like a visiting dignitary. Many thumbs up!!! And accounting? I showed them two insurance cards, signed a short form and that was it. Nothing at check out. Seemed like great healthcare to me.

After reading Michael Johnston's rant this morning on the poor condition of store bought broccoli in rural New York I found myself reflecting on my much happier food situation. Living in a food oasis. A veritable food rain forest. We live within two miles in either direction (east or west) of a Trader Joe's (for fun, quick stuff) and two large, full service, high quality, traditional grocery stores; each featuring huge selections of farm fresh, organic produce. But when I really want great broccoli I drive about five miles over to the Whole Foods flagship store, just west of downtown. The beautiful, magazine cover-ready photo shoot stalks of fresh broccoli would make Johnston burst into tears of joy--- it seems. We in Austin are spoiled by great food choices, and that doesn't even include restaurants, coffee bars, food trailers, etc. 

Again, more silver linings, my "personal shopper", B. was willing to go the extra distance to find perfect mangos, fresh pineapples, perfect apples and more. Nice to be able to source whatever foods the heart desires. Seems the local markets are what really drives the quality of food, not any concerted effort at making stuff worse... if people are willing to pay for first rate stuff they can usually get it here all the time.

An interesting silver lining of sitting around dealing with kidney stone pain is that I didn't pick up a camera or think about cameras once this week. Not until right now. The silver linings being that I didn't waste a lot of time endlessly "researching" new cameras or existing bargains. The gold lining to my indifference to all things camera was the happy realization that I spent not a skinny dime on any new acquisitions. Nothing. Nada. At this pace I may be able to make the mythic "retirement spread" without difficulties. And still be able to afford the good broccoli !

Now, for the first time in a week, I can hardly wait to put on my favorite walking shoes and just go out with one of my favorite camera and lens combinations. Thinking that next up I'll try that 85mm Zeiss ZM on a rangefinder Leica. Wouldn't it be a nice match for a new M11-P?

But back to the silver linings. Let's talk physicians. When my symptoms started to cascade on Monday afternoon I reached for my phone and punched in my physician's cell number. Got the recorded message. Heard back from him five minutes later and we talked through all the next steps. How to know when to head to the ER. What to ask. What to expect. I've called on him three or four times this week with questions and he's always been quick to get back to me via text or voice call. One of those calls was a request for a referral to a great urologist. ER doctors suggested a prompt follow up with one.

I called the Urology practice and scheduled something for this coming Monday. But after my GP sent over some notes to the urology practice I got a quick call back on late Tuesday afternoon letting me now that my new specialist could see me the next day. Wow! Good service. And a smart, urologist/detective. 

I walked into the "waiting room" was greeted and almost immediately whisked off to an exam room with B. following like a body guard. The doc was great and spent a lot of time reviewing the various CT scans the hospital had sent over. Found one more culprit lurking in my system that needs some physical intervention. We're waiting to schedule a bit of surgery but waiting to recover from this week's trauma and a raging head cold.

As we exited the practice I was waiting to be asked for a co-pay but...nope. So far I haven't had to reached into my pocket yet. And I'm not on some gilded insurance policy. Just trad. Medicare and a supplement plan.

So, silver linings? I recover pretty quickly. The pool is open and I'm cleared for a gentle re-entry into swimming starting Saturday. I'll likely swim in one of the slower lanes for a bit --- and make new friends there. 

A continued appreciation for the "Leica of Spouses". Above and beyond every step of the way. Wanna be happy in your golden years? Marry well and stay married.

The warm glow that comes from receiving dozens and dozens of texts asking about me and sending wishes for my quick and happy recovery. 

The idea (at this juncture anyway) that all of this top quality healthcare is affordable and well delivered. 

Thrilled to be living in a city chocked full of great food, great people, great opportunities and beautiful resources. 

Happy to have enough camera toys around to make "down time" more fun. 

Thrilled to have effectively escaped (retired) from the commercial photography market just as it starts collapsing under the effects of A.I. and a general degrading of pricing and availability of projects. I guess timing is everything. 

We should always look for silver linings, that takes some of the sting out of life's occasional setbacks. 

The motto of every urologist (mostly about kidney stones): "This too shall pass."

From Monday the 12th. My last walk with a camera before all the excitement.

Tentative mannequin gesture.

Secret agent mannequins.

Try always to find the silver lining.

They aren't there all the time but more often

than we imagine. 

Back to the work of making art.

Thanks for the comments!