The loud beginnings to an increasingly blurry Saturday night.
Blur.
Beat.
Captive Audience.
Silhouettes.
Showing posts with label photography. Show all posts
Showing posts with label photography. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Friday, February 26, 2010
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
28 x 28: February Twenty-Four
Waterfalls Don't Freeze 
Walking in Old Footsteps
The Sun Lit Up the Whole Sidewalk
The Sign Said No Trespassing
No One Sits Here in the Winter
Like a Thousand Crooked Fingers Calling Me In
Chain Link Winter
Before the Sun is Up in this Neighborhood
Monday, February 22, 2010
28 x 28: February Twenty-Two
Scraping the absolute bottom of this picture barrel. Apologies again, but today was insanely hectic. Tomorrow; new content!!
I Wonder if they Talk to Spacemen
Sunday, February 21, 2010
28 x 28: February Twenty-One
I have a big test tomorrow so I am doing a special edition 'B-sides' version of yesterdays photos. Essentially these are the pictures that I liked, but didn't like enough to share yesterday.
Nighttime Stroll 
Mo's Crossing 
Just Another Street to Nowhere
Saturday, February 20, 2010
28 x 28: February Twenty
So I had a very successful photo experience tonight, and I tried to employ some of the ideas of the art exhibit I saw and subsequently wrote about last night. By this I mean I tried to get people in these pictures just going about their business. For the most part I got some interesting pictures and I am posting up the best ones here for all to see. Some of these work really well as color images, but keeping in line with winter and the thematic throughline I've been presenting here during this month I've decided to show only the black and white images.
As an awesome side note, I am super happy with the last picture in this series (Classy Motion Blur) and even though I just said something completely different; I am including both black and white and color versions.
As an awesome side note, I am super happy with the last picture in this series (Classy Motion Blur) and even though I just said something completely different; I am including both black and white and color versions.
Angry Lady in a Crosswalk 
You Don't Say
Safety First Then Teamwork
Not Quite Through the Looking Glass
Difference of Direction
Classy Motion Blur (Color)
Classy Motion Blur (Black and White)
Friday, February 19, 2010
28 x 28: February Nineteen
"They weren't pictures of people. They were pictures of the way I felt." -- Ted Croner
Sometimes life throws such oddly resonant and serendipitous moments at you that you don't even see them coming. Tonight I had the pleasure of attending the Milwaukee Art Museum's Street Seen exhibit. This was a special event with (loud) music, drinks, food, and various other activities throughout the art museum. It's a regular event called MAM: After Dark. To say the least, it was a fairly schizophrenic affair filled with tons of people and not a particularly clear notion on what it was one should be doing. From an interesting if not bizarre interpretive dance group to craft tables with no discernible purpose, one wouldn't be blamed for finding it hard to find the tone of the night. The sheer amount of people present in a relatively small space and the fact that we arrived slightly later to the venue than normal only exacerbated the calamity. Of course, if one were to just relax and take a step back, it's quite easy to see that the most logical thing to do in an art museum is view art. This was my first visit to the Milwaukee Art Museum, so I was not entirely sure what to expect in terms of what I would see. Part of me has always assumed that art museums are just places where oddities and simplistic renderings get passed off for a lot more than they actually happen to be. I tried my best to keep this notion in check as we decided to see the centerpiece attraction for tonight's event: Street Seen.
Street Seen is a collection of photographs from six different photographers showcasing various pieces demonstrating city life and culture during the years following the Second World War. Photography is one of those art forms that I find it hard to denote any one photograph as art. By dint of what it is, I feel like the classification of such work falls squarely into a subjective category. Regardless, I viewed the exhibit with as open a mind as I am able, and I must say I was quite taken aback. While every four or five pictures simply seemed to me to be pleasant accidents touted as much more, there were some every now and then that struck me as simply amazing. I suppose I should clarify that 'pleasant accident' can both be a good thing and a bad thing. Photography is capturing a moment the way you're seeing or experiencing it, and because moments are fleeting most of the best pictures that will ever be captured will be accidental. The very same photos I was so astonished by were most likely also completely random; a cosmic conflux of elements all coming together at once with a lucky human being aware enough to snap a shutter at the right moment. Happy enough to be wrong about the content of an art museum (for the most part), I plodded along silently critiquing or envying each photo until I came upon the works of one Ted Croner.
The photographs of Ted Croner and the accompanying information about the photographer gripped me in a way I had not expected -- which is to say this is the resonance and serendipity I was speaking about at the beginning of this writing. Ted Croner, upon returning from the War, dedicated himself to being a photographer and took up shop in the heart of the country; New York City. Enrolled at a famous photography institute of the time (a name which escapes me at the moment), it wasn't until one night when Croner borrowed a specific camera (twin reflex, I think) and set out to take a few shots at a diner that he discovered his photographic 'voice'. Upon this discovery Croner commented that he wasn't just capturing people doing things, he was capturing how he felt. I've quoted the exact line at the top of this posting, but those of you who have read this blog for some amount of time may remember that my own view of the world and taking pictures of it is something freakishly similar to Ted Croner. It wasn't until I further discovered that the photographer also relished the post production aspects of his craft that I was very nearly floored. Apparently Croner was a huge fan of experimental manipulation techniques during the development of his work. Altering shadow darkness, exposing negatives longer, double printing negative on the same sheet -- Ted Croner was essentially doing exactly what I was DECADES before I ever thought of the idea. Needless to say, his photographs were the absolute highlight of the entire night for me. Here was a person who not only lived in an era that I personally find exponentially more visually entertaining, but he was much more skillfully and confidently capturing images that I so far only dream to aspire to.
I suppose the point of all of this rambling on and on about finding a kindred spirit in a medium I am growing progressively more fond of is that sometimes it's nice to know that something you believe in is not only shared, but respected. In one fell swoop, the photographs of Ted Croner at once stoked an inspirational fire that has not been so driven in quite a while and also bolstered my personal confidence in my approach to the art form. Life can be a surprising journey from time to time, and it's little moments like the one tonight that can draw the focus on something much bigger you were never aware of. It's hard to accurately describe the kind of feeling such a moment creates, but it's one worth writing about and it's one that I would encourage everyone to go out and find.
Also, I have to again apologize for yesterday's entry. Yikes. Nine more days!
Sometimes life throws such oddly resonant and serendipitous moments at you that you don't even see them coming. Tonight I had the pleasure of attending the Milwaukee Art Museum's Street Seen exhibit. This was a special event with (loud) music, drinks, food, and various other activities throughout the art museum. It's a regular event called MAM: After Dark. To say the least, it was a fairly schizophrenic affair filled with tons of people and not a particularly clear notion on what it was one should be doing. From an interesting if not bizarre interpretive dance group to craft tables with no discernible purpose, one wouldn't be blamed for finding it hard to find the tone of the night. The sheer amount of people present in a relatively small space and the fact that we arrived slightly later to the venue than normal only exacerbated the calamity. Of course, if one were to just relax and take a step back, it's quite easy to see that the most logical thing to do in an art museum is view art. This was my first visit to the Milwaukee Art Museum, so I was not entirely sure what to expect in terms of what I would see. Part of me has always assumed that art museums are just places where oddities and simplistic renderings get passed off for a lot more than they actually happen to be. I tried my best to keep this notion in check as we decided to see the centerpiece attraction for tonight's event: Street Seen.
Street Seen is a collection of photographs from six different photographers showcasing various pieces demonstrating city life and culture during the years following the Second World War. Photography is one of those art forms that I find it hard to denote any one photograph as art. By dint of what it is, I feel like the classification of such work falls squarely into a subjective category. Regardless, I viewed the exhibit with as open a mind as I am able, and I must say I was quite taken aback. While every four or five pictures simply seemed to me to be pleasant accidents touted as much more, there were some every now and then that struck me as simply amazing. I suppose I should clarify that 'pleasant accident' can both be a good thing and a bad thing. Photography is capturing a moment the way you're seeing or experiencing it, and because moments are fleeting most of the best pictures that will ever be captured will be accidental. The very same photos I was so astonished by were most likely also completely random; a cosmic conflux of elements all coming together at once with a lucky human being aware enough to snap a shutter at the right moment. Happy enough to be wrong about the content of an art museum (for the most part), I plodded along silently critiquing or envying each photo until I came upon the works of one Ted Croner.
The photographs of Ted Croner and the accompanying information about the photographer gripped me in a way I had not expected -- which is to say this is the resonance and serendipity I was speaking about at the beginning of this writing. Ted Croner, upon returning from the War, dedicated himself to being a photographer and took up shop in the heart of the country; New York City. Enrolled at a famous photography institute of the time (a name which escapes me at the moment), it wasn't until one night when Croner borrowed a specific camera (twin reflex, I think) and set out to take a few shots at a diner that he discovered his photographic 'voice'. Upon this discovery Croner commented that he wasn't just capturing people doing things, he was capturing how he felt. I've quoted the exact line at the top of this posting, but those of you who have read this blog for some amount of time may remember that my own view of the world and taking pictures of it is something freakishly similar to Ted Croner. It wasn't until I further discovered that the photographer also relished the post production aspects of his craft that I was very nearly floored. Apparently Croner was a huge fan of experimental manipulation techniques during the development of his work. Altering shadow darkness, exposing negatives longer, double printing negative on the same sheet -- Ted Croner was essentially doing exactly what I was DECADES before I ever thought of the idea. Needless to say, his photographs were the absolute highlight of the entire night for me. Here was a person who not only lived in an era that I personally find exponentially more visually entertaining, but he was much more skillfully and confidently capturing images that I so far only dream to aspire to.
I suppose the point of all of this rambling on and on about finding a kindred spirit in a medium I am growing progressively more fond of is that sometimes it's nice to know that something you believe in is not only shared, but respected. In one fell swoop, the photographs of Ted Croner at once stoked an inspirational fire that has not been so driven in quite a while and also bolstered my personal confidence in my approach to the art form. Life can be a surprising journey from time to time, and it's little moments like the one tonight that can draw the focus on something much bigger you were never aware of. It's hard to accurately describe the kind of feeling such a moment creates, but it's one worth writing about and it's one that I would encourage everyone to go out and find.
Also, I have to again apologize for yesterday's entry. Yikes. Nine more days!
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Monday, February 1, 2010
28 x 28: February One
28 x 28 is my attempt to post at least one piece of new content every day of February leading up to the 28th, which also just so happens to be my birthday. Some days I imagine the postings will be very tiny. Maybe a quick snapshot, maybe a drawing, maybe a poem or review of some kind. Either way, each day if I am successful there should be something new to see on this very site.
To start is a picture of one of my favorite views of downtown from the lower East Side. I don't know why it is particularly. Maybe it's because of the geometry of the cathedral and the buildings behind it and how they overlap. It's nice and snowy tonight, but not too cold to prohibit a quick walk.
Skyrising Cascade in Snowfall
To start is a picture of one of my favorite views of downtown from the lower East Side. I don't know why it is particularly. Maybe it's because of the geometry of the cathedral and the buildings behind it and how they overlap. It's nice and snowy tonight, but not too cold to prohibit a quick walk.
Skyrising Cascade in Snowfall
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
The World in my Mind
This post serves as both one of those new ideas I've been mulling over, and a slight diversion from regular goings on here at my blog. I cannot say if this will become more frequent from now on, but the kind of content found here may begin to vary as per my very first post. No worries though, I'll try and keep movie reviews and such coming as they interest me.
My dad recently told me that, to him, photography is a person's attempt at showing others the way that they see the world. I've carried this around with me the last couple of weeks and it occurs to me that it is very profound in its own way. At a most basic state, a photograph is really just a still representation of something that exists in this world. In other words you could say that it is mundane. When one thinks then as my dad does, a picture becomes something much more interesting. The way a picture is taken, its subject, and even the location all inform the viewer of the unique way that a person views the world; the mundane can suddenly mean a lot more. Taken this way, the act of photography is actually intensely personal, however intentionally a picture is taken.
With this thought process recently in mind, I set out to not only take a few new pictures, but to search out some of my old ones and figure out something about myself. Why did I take the picture? What did I feel? And what was I trying to say to everyone else about my world view? It's actually a very interesting process to discover something about yourself that you may have only been subconsciously aware.
I consider myself a bit of an artist, or more realistically someone with an artistic mind. I often find myself looking for detail and symmetry. Colors that really stand out. I especially like light and especially that at night. With this in mind I found it intriguing that it apparently seems in almost all of my own photography I'm desperately trying to capture whatever it is that I am seeing and feeling in that moment. The funniest part about this endeavor, as with most art, is that I often times struggle to succeed. Very seldom does it seem I ever really capture the essence of my own vision. I find this frustrating, but admit freely that sometimes the most beautiful moments can be captured by accident. Allowing myself to accept this fact, I poured over the last six months of pictures stored on my computer with an eye to spot not only the beauty in any particular moment, but my own emotional and artistic intention...
... And found lots to look at. Sometimes the picture felt close to what I was aiming for and in some cases I'm so far removed from those moments that the pictures become something else. Nevertheless I started picking out images that I felt I was relatively close to capturing and decided to see if I couldn't maybe coax the last bit of personality out of them. In other words, make those visions uniquely mine to the world. This involved a heavy amount of photo manipulation on my part. Normally I am trained to scoff at the practice, but it occurs to me that by adjusting these images I am only making the effort to expose in some manner the feeling of the things I am seeing.
Now, in a lot of cases the editing began slowly and I attempted to keep the changes minor. In some cases this was all that was necessary to achieve my desired effect. In others I made a discovery that perhaps the moment I was in and the picture I was taking were an attempt to emulate the scene I wish I could see. It's natural to want your own perfect version of life and it's also natural to never really achieve that. As I slowly pushed the contrasts and the color balances in differing and more dramatic directions I realized I could turn the world I've seen into the world in my head. There's something oddly poetic about the process that I really appreciate -- taking the real world and adjusting it ever so slightly to match the ideal version in my brain.
I realize the practice is slightly counter-purpose to photography. There are some that would argue that when you take a photo, you're trying to capture that moment as real as it is forever. And while I can imagine the practical applications of such a practice I cannot help but be bored by it. If, as my dad so helpfully put it, the purpose of photography is to share your unique view of the boring everyday, then maybe what I've done is an extension of that. Some of the pictures featured here say a lot about me, or at least how I'd like to think I see existence. They represent places I've been and, at the same instant, places I'll never be. That's a really tough nut to crack, but I can't help but believe that it's a lot like living.
My dad recently told me that, to him, photography is a person's attempt at showing others the way that they see the world. I've carried this around with me the last couple of weeks and it occurs to me that it is very profound in its own way. At a most basic state, a photograph is really just a still representation of something that exists in this world. In other words you could say that it is mundane. When one thinks then as my dad does, a picture becomes something much more interesting. The way a picture is taken, its subject, and even the location all inform the viewer of the unique way that a person views the world; the mundane can suddenly mean a lot more. Taken this way, the act of photography is actually intensely personal, however intentionally a picture is taken.
With this thought process recently in mind, I set out to not only take a few new pictures, but to search out some of my old ones and figure out something about myself. Why did I take the picture? What did I feel? And what was I trying to say to everyone else about my world view? It's actually a very interesting process to discover something about yourself that you may have only been subconsciously aware.
I consider myself a bit of an artist, or more realistically someone with an artistic mind. I often find myself looking for detail and symmetry. Colors that really stand out. I especially like light and especially that at night. With this in mind I found it intriguing that it apparently seems in almost all of my own photography I'm desperately trying to capture whatever it is that I am seeing and feeling in that moment. The funniest part about this endeavor, as with most art, is that I often times struggle to succeed. Very seldom does it seem I ever really capture the essence of my own vision. I find this frustrating, but admit freely that sometimes the most beautiful moments can be captured by accident. Allowing myself to accept this fact, I poured over the last six months of pictures stored on my computer with an eye to spot not only the beauty in any particular moment, but my own emotional and artistic intention...
... And found lots to look at. Sometimes the picture felt close to what I was aiming for and in some cases I'm so far removed from those moments that the pictures become something else. Nevertheless I started picking out images that I felt I was relatively close to capturing and decided to see if I couldn't maybe coax the last bit of personality out of them. In other words, make those visions uniquely mine to the world. This involved a heavy amount of photo manipulation on my part. Normally I am trained to scoff at the practice, but it occurs to me that by adjusting these images I am only making the effort to expose in some manner the feeling of the things I am seeing.
Now, in a lot of cases the editing began slowly and I attempted to keep the changes minor. In some cases this was all that was necessary to achieve my desired effect. In others I made a discovery that perhaps the moment I was in and the picture I was taking were an attempt to emulate the scene I wish I could see. It's natural to want your own perfect version of life and it's also natural to never really achieve that. As I slowly pushed the contrasts and the color balances in differing and more dramatic directions I realized I could turn the world I've seen into the world in my head. There's something oddly poetic about the process that I really appreciate -- taking the real world and adjusting it ever so slightly to match the ideal version in my brain.
I realize the practice is slightly counter-purpose to photography. There are some that would argue that when you take a photo, you're trying to capture that moment as real as it is forever. And while I can imagine the practical applications of such a practice I cannot help but be bored by it. If, as my dad so helpfully put it, the purpose of photography is to share your unique view of the boring everyday, then maybe what I've done is an extension of that. Some of the pictures featured here say a lot about me, or at least how I'd like to think I see existence. They represent places I've been and, at the same instant, places I'll never be. That's a really tough nut to crack, but I can't help but believe that it's a lot like living.
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