Showing posts with label art. Show all posts
Showing posts with label art. Show all posts

Thursday, August 29, 2013

august photos

far from highgarden

"far from highgarden"

Model: Felicity
Assistant: Heather
Wardrobe: Matt



(click to view bigger)

Soo proud of what I produced this month. I've gotten a lot of positive feedback on these two photos, and it's honestly been extremely uplifting. There are at least two more images from my shoot with Felicity and Heather, but I haven't had time to process them yet. Maybe this month! August has actually been really great photography-wise. I've gotten to do three client projects, plus begun (begin? I really can't figure out which is correct) working on a huge shoot with another client. It's been so great, and I hope to keep it up!

january/february // march // april // may // june // july

Saturday, April 13, 2013

the bench

the bench

A film photo taken and developed by me for my photo class.

Here is the short story I wrote to go along with the photo:

Funny how one object can hold the weight of the entire world—whether that weight be of the world changing or of the world falling apart—in the memory of one’s mind. It was a quiet sunny day, a cold, fall evening, a misting night with the stars beginning to twinkle into existence; it was a million different days and nights for the little wooden bench at the back of the park, with its rusting nails and chipping paint hanging on for dear life and weathering bark showing more of its skin than the paint that was fighting a losing battle.

A quiet, sunny day found the bench gazing upon two people, a man and a woman, walking up to it hand in hand. Her hair was curled and she wore a white dress with lace and flowers, and he wore glasses, a newsboy cap, a button down shirt, and a nervous smile. They sat down on the bench close to each other, the land silent save for the light wisps of wind giving hints about the future. The man stood up suddenly, that wind twirling the tuft of hair underneath his cap flirtatiously. He held onto his girl’s hand and led her a short distance from the bench. He spoke softly. The bench felt the same tickle from the wind and heard a bit of that future insight, and just like it heard, it watched as the man knelt down on one knee and pulled out a small, light pink box from inside his coat pocket. The girl gasped and started crying, but the bench knew from its lifetime of observations that these weren't sad tears. After several moments of the man talking and the girl wiping away tears, they sat again on the happy bench, she resting her head on his shoulder and him resting his head on hers. The three watched as the sun began to set on the gleaming city lights before them.

The sun was beginning to set on a cold, fall evening and the bench saw a girl walking towards it from the right, chatting away loudly on a cell phone in some language the bench didn’t understand. She had a bag over her shoulder and wore high heels and her feet jumped quickly one in front of the other as if in a race to a finish line. The bench felt its wood aching, wanting to let her rest on it. The view of the city was beautiful that day, with hues of red and orange and yellow glittering through the fog, and the bench knew, for it was wise and saw many people, that the girl needed a glimpse of those city lights and needed to be held within their aura. She needed just a moment to be reminded of the ground she came from and of the beauty of that ground. But as it was thinking about this the girl came and went. It saw her shadow leaving and then she was gone and only little stars began to twinkle from her trail.

The stars twinkled into existence as faint clouds cried over a darkening world. An old woman sat crying on the old bench, her tears mingling with raindrops dampening her graying hair. The bench too felt the weight of her sorrow caving in on it, and wished, as it had a million times before to a million different people, it could tell the woman to just look at the beautiful city, with its raindrop races sliding down every window and the stars being spotlights for every person who looked towards the hill where the bench stayed. It longed to pick up its stools and wrap around the woman, shield her from the rain and comfort her. But she just held her face in her hands, never looking at a city that held a lifetime of memories for her. If only she knew how many lifetimes the bench had seen and how life was still beautiful. She didn't notice the rain whispering thoughts of the morning.

No one knew quite like how the bench knew. It knew the city. It knew the people in it. It saw forever stretched out like it did not know time. And it knew that despite the good and the bad that people thought would change their lives forever, those things were only a progression to another day and another night, another year, another lifetime of memories, another lifetime of chances taken and chances missed.

Funny how one object can hold the weight of the entire world—and yet, that weight did not sag its beams. It only left dents and scratches and paint chips and the bench knew that the city would continue, even if it—though it could stretch out the timelines of generations of people it knew—knew it would one day too lose the battle.


Tuesday, April 9, 2013

thoughts on: photography as an art // my photographic style: closing the gap

+ photos from 2010-2011: when I was just starting out in photography

I have been writing this post over the course of several weeks, as I keep letting this idea smolder in my mind. This part was written from March:

This is brought to you by: the fact that this is mostly just my word vomit. Thank you, vomit.

day three hundred and fifty seven
day two hundred and eighty five

Viewing photography as an art is something that I've been struggling with recently, brought on by the fact that I realized a couple months ago that I never really considered myself an artist, at least when it came to taking photos. And even more recently, I heard that a photographer who considers that subject their art doesn't say they "take" photos, but rather they make them. And it makes sense. Painters don't take paintings, sculptors don't take sculptures, so photographers don't take photos. I've been trying to say that I make photos in an effort to really see it as an art again.

It's kind of challenging when people say that Art isn't really a "real" major, and it's even harder when people say that photography isn't even a "real" art. Yeah, I've had people tell me that, or that photography is easy, like it's their excuse as to why I'm good, because it's easy and anyone can do that. I mean, a lot of it these days is computer programs. I spend most of my time on photoshop, and probably only one tenth of the time actually taking the picture. But I know that photography doesn't come easy for everyone and there are certainly people who just aren't good at it. I guess the other complex thing about it is that unlike painting or drawing, there's a whole industry around photography. There's commercial, portrait, wedding photographers and while I would consider all of those snapshots, I wouldn't necessarily consider them art.

day three hundred and fifty nine

Perhaps my problem is not in convincing myself that photography is art, but that my creative photography is actually art. But what really constitutes art in the first place? Is it the amount of time spent creating it? Is it the use of the elements and principles? Is it the concept and meaning behind it? While I think these are all true some of the time, I don't think they're true all of the time.

Dare You To Move
The Future Is Bright

And now we come to today:

In doing an art project for class, I've been researching a lot about the great Ansel Adams, who was the most significant landscape photographer in America. The text above shows my previous feelings towards snapshots, but in since hearing what Ansel had to say about them, I've changed my mind. "The snapshot is not as simple a statement as some may believe. It represents something each of us has seen—more as human beings than as photographers … While to many the snapshot is a symbol of thoughtlessness and chance, it is a flash of recognition—something which for many reasons we wish to perpetuate. It may have real human and historic value. The more we look, the more we see, and the more we see, the more we respond. When we begin visualizing our responses to the world in terms of images, we become photographers in the most rewarding sense of the term."

River Flows In You
All Is Brilliant

I'm starting to come to terms with the fact that not every photo has to be some big endeavor in order to be art. Some of my most favorite photos are the ones that are simplistic, yet have something, maybe even one thing, that makes it surreal. My favorite photos are the ones that show the magic in life. I've been pulling a lot of inspiration from my favorite photographer ever, Greg Pths, as well as from Vilde Indrehus, Jack Batchelor, (among others), and artwork that I discover on tumblr. I'm no longer happy with this hyper realistic, expansion, photoshoppy look that a lot of photographers (including myself) have been doing (that's not to say I can't appreciate it, because some of those people are my friends and I admire them deeply), and while a lot of my photography has that style, when looking through my old photos, it does that have spark of what I really want my art to look like.

When I create a beautiful photograph, that makes me incredibly excited and passionate to shoot the next one and then the next one and the next. It's hard to push through when your pictures don't do that for you. I've talked with my photo professor about this too, that the 365 is really exhausting in that you keep having to outdo your previous photo, and when that doesn't happen, you get discouraged and start to feel like you're no good at all. It's a constant battle against yourself to be better and I suppose a lot of my thoughts about this whole photography thing have come from not only battling through myself for three consecutive years now, but also because now I'm no longer doing a project and now I'm just counting the casualties, to keep the metaphor going. Now I can be deliberate with my style and it's freeing and terrifying at the same time.

Basically, I'm deliberately changing my photographic, artistic style. Or, better yet, I am honing in on the glimmers of greatness that have been in my current style for the past three years of me doing photography. Phlearn did an awesome article about changing your photographic style right in the middle of all my struggles, which you should definitely read here. And my friend Sarah also wrote a great post that is similar to this discussion and came at the perfect time as well.

galaxies weave around us

It's scary to change a style, especially when people have become so familiar with my work, and so naturally I'm afraid people won't like the things I will produce in the future. But it all goes back to creating art and me being happy with what I make and being confident that I can call it art. I always always go back to this video, which is so inspiring and exactly how I feel. My work right now isn't up to my ambition. I know there is a spark of something awesome in it, but now I am entering the stage where I am trying to take that spark and light something on fire. The photos in this post are some of the ones from 2010/2011, when I literally just started picking up a camera and feeling really passionate about photography, which I feel have that little spark (and even some stuff from 2012/2013 have that element, but since they are already all on my blog I figured it would just be redundant). I don't know how the next few months will look. I may be taking more photos than ever, or it may be weeks at a time where I don't release anything. We will see. But coming from being afraid that my photography "phase" was over to being really excited to produce new art that I'm proud of, I'm really happy how things are beginning to settle.

Wednesday, April 3, 2013

March Photos

Here's all the photography I made over the month of March. You can click on the photos to view them on flickr.



slippery sounds

"slippery grounds"

half life

"half life"


part of the "waiting for a friend" series

inside the universe that is you

"inside the universe that is you"

brace for impact

"brace for impact"

a firing

"a firing"

My style is currently all over the place, and if this set of photos isn't an indication of that, then I don't know what is. April will certainly be interesting, as I am working to change my style and find something that I'm really proud of (but I'm going to talk more about that in an upcoming blog post).