5 On Rain

I love rain.

I grew up in Atlanta where it rains regularly, about two to three times a week. (Well, assuming there's no drought, but we're talking in generalizations here.)

Every August during my childhood there was a weather pattern that could be counted on like clockwork- extreme humidity and high temperatures all day, but then about 5PM the sky would get dark and grey. Thick clouds would roll in, so heavy they pressed down on the rooftops in the distance.

Then a crack of thunder would make us jump- a flash of lightning would make us stop whatever we were doing- and my sister and I would climb up into our loft space to lay on lounge chairs and watch through our big sky windows. 

The August 5PM thunderstorms were perfect.

They lasted about 30 minutes; heavy, adrenaline-rushing, and calming in their power.

Then they stopped. The sun re-emerged. The leaves dripped as the birds chirped.

And we went back outside.

I loved them.

The lightning bugs (fireflies) would come out about an hour later and we'd catch some in a jar with a few blades of grass. I didn't save them in the jar often; usually they were released just before bed. 

It rained a lot more in Athens (Georgia), three to five times a week and often for the better part of a day.  Heavy downpours that caused thick vegetation to crowd any space not carefully tended. Heavy downpours that were best enjoyed on a porch with a good book and a glass of lemonade. Heavy downpours that prompted puppy potty training to be done under umbrellas.

I loved them, too.

 In SE Idaho there is no rain. There is scorching sun, blinding wind, and thick layers of snow in the winter- but very little rain. 

I missed rain for those 3.5 years.

Paul missed rain for those 3.5 years.

When we learned we were moving to England, people told us "you'll miss the sun"; "it rains constantly". We responded that we'd had enough sun- painful, stay-inside sun. We welcomed the rain, the cooling and calming pitter-patter of rain.

England surprised us. There truthfully isn't a lot of actual rain- but the drizzle can be near-constant, and the dampness really does get into your bones; the stones of the houses get so thick with moisture you can feel it coming through. It's not so much rain as it is constant damp that gets into your soul.

But to be honest, I don't generally mind.

I own a couple of pairs of wellies, I own a couple of rain coats. The dogs both have raincoats.

I have an umbrella that makes me so happy I get excited to use it.

And when it rains- truly rains-

thick, each drop soaks through your clothes, makes you blink extra because it feels like crocodile tears are pouring down your face-

my heart feels peace. 

It's raining right now. It's been raining for a couple of hours. 

The dogs are passed out; even they are affected by the rain.

I can watch it run down our windows, listen to it tap out its rhythm on our conservatory roof.

And I feel content.

I love rain.

4 Thoughts on Thursday

Cows across the lane from Thompson's Auctioneers, between Hampsthwaite and Killinghall

This gorgeous summer weather we're finally having is really making it hard for me to have my breakup fight with England. And I need my breakup fight.

My sunburn from last Friday's beach day in the Algarve is peeling, at least on my back. It's gross. But good, since as soon as that's gone I'll just be tan. Not the many shades of raspberry cobbler (red, pink, golden) I've been for the past six days.

We've got a lot to do to get this move in order. Tomorrow I'm working on plane tickets... mine and the pets'. Wish me patience, persistence, and luck. While I'm not quite as naive as I was three years ago, a lot of rules have also changed since then.

I need an assistant. A photo-editing, pet-sitting, gardening kind of assistant. I don't mind doing dishes. Oh, and if you're a Chinese food chef, that's a HUGE bonus.  But... I can't pay. Sloan is willing to give you lots of kisses, though, and Max will let you scratch him.

Paul loves stocks, and manages ours well (as far as I know, which you'll soon learn). A while back, when I got home he said "I bought you Coke today" and I said "Oh, good! We were out and I was craving some."  Well, I'm sure you know what kind of "Coke" he bought. Ever since then, though, when he starts talking about how my Coke is doing, I get really, really thirsty.

I had to take Watson (our Element) into the Honda Dealership for a recall repair today. It wasn't anything big, but because he's U.S. spec and they don't even have Elements over here, it always takes a while, so I sat in their waiting area and watched Olympics BMX and Dressage. I didn't know the first was in the Olympics, and I don't think the second should be, since the horse is the real athlete. That said, the GB girl who got bronze did her routine to music from The Lion King, so I am a big fan of hers.

Relatedly, they always wash Watson really well when I take him to the dealership (all for free), which is nice, since he's generally caked in mud. However, when he's all shiny, I can see that some of the smudges I pretended were mud are really scratches, and that sucks. I've got a scrape from when I slid literally sideways, fully stopped, on ice two winters ago, a gash on the other side from where I backed into our electric gate's sticky outy tab earlier this year, and a couple of other scratches probably from having to squeeze up to stone walls on narrow, one-lane but two-way roads.  Poor Watson.

Back to the moving bit, we've got to figure out when we're shipping our stuff. It should take about two months to cross the Atlantic, so obviously we're not going to have it there when we get there. So we get to find the delicate balance of borrowing bits and pieces from friends and camping out in houses... on each end.  A queen-sized air mattress with two humans, two dogs, and one cat does not stay inflated through the night. That should be in a fortune cookie.

Max in Swinsty Reservoir tonight

Come back tomorrow for Farm Delivery Friday- and... A GIVEAWAY!

9 Facing Facts

It's August now, which seems to be a popular topic around social media. Either teachers/students are talking about the new school year, heat-sufferers are hoping for some crisp autumn air to reprieve them, or lake/beach lovers are lamenting their waning days of leisurely basking in the sun.  In my little world, it's time to face the facts.

We're moving.

In approximately two months.

To North Carolina.

I'm dreading this move for a whole host of reasons, the majority of which can be boiled down to one sentence:

I don't want to leave North Yorkshire, England, Great Britain, or Europe.

I'm not done yet.

I'm not done looking out over green fields full of plodding sheep hemmed in by stone walls.

I'm not done deciding last-minute on a nice afternoon to go to a castle or abbey, and soak up history in ways I'd only read about before.

I'm not done driving on the left side of the road, creeping behind tractors, and praying to Apollo that the driver barreling towards me in a roundabout really is turning off like his indicator (blinker) says he is.

I'm not done laughing at Sloan running pell-mell off lead around abbey ruins, and reminding Max not to pee on graveslabs.

I'm not done eating dinner in a pub after a day in the Dales with two tired (and river-logged) pooches collapsed on my feet.

I'm not done holding Max up to see lambs over the back garden wall.

I'm not done cooking on the Aga.

I'm not done sitting in the conservatory (sunroom) on a nice afternoon- or a rainy one- with a good book.

I'm not done having housekeys shaped like mysterious skeleton keys.

I'm not done chatting with Ian, the farmer from whom I buy my same-day fresh, free-range eggs.

I'm not done buying any yogurt or cheese I please, because they're ALL hormone- and antibiotic-free.

I'm not done with my farm delivery.

Our trip to Spain and Portugal was our last Europe trip (while living here), and I kept telling myself I'd deal with the moving stuff after the trip.

We're back.

It's time to deal.

So that you don't think I'm entirely stuck in a downer pity-party, there is a small list- a list I'm desperately clinging to every time the tears push at my eyes- of things I'm looking forward to in North Carolina:

A regular sized fridge/freezer, so we can make big batches of food and freeze future portions- we're both adamant about sticking to our fresh, homemade meals we've grown to love here, and it'd be nice to not have to cook all the time just because there's little space for cold storage.

Being closer to our families, and actually developing in-person relationships with my nieces and nephews.  Also being closer to life-long friends- there are some spouses/partners I've not met, some babies I've not met, some dogs and cats I've not met. Spending regular time with these people is a lot easier with a 5 hour drive than it is with a 7 hour plane ride.

Having my Jeep back. I miss him, and beautiful, sunny days make my heart hurt a little because of it!

Being able to buy clothes without trying everything on- I am not a fan of clothes shopping, and even less so of having to try stuff on. I miss knowing that I'm a small at some stores, a medium at others, a 4 in this brand, a 6 in another... and don't get me started on bra sizes. 

This post is a little of an unload on you- sorry. But hopefully it gives you an idea of where my brain is, and sets you up for the deluge of moving-related and last-minute GB posts coming your way over the next two months.  While I can guarantee there will be can't promise there won't be more pity-party posts, I've wallowed and moped myself to a point of realizing just how amazing these past three years- and the opportunity to live in England- have been, for our entire family. 

And... tomorrow we should be back to our regularly scheduled travel-related, photo-heavy posts.  Thanks for sticking around, if you've made it this far!

8 Joining the Party: If You Really Knew Me...

This was in the Atomium in Brussels (and yeah, I owe a post on that).  I liked the bench, so Paul took this picture. He took a few, actually, and all include this boy... and me looking annoyed.

Jenni did this, then Lindsay, so clearly this is the new big thing, right??
Edit: turns out Megan and Lauren posted theirs today, too!

 I've punctuated the words with some "outtakes" of me.  Hopefully you enjoy.

If you really knew me....

You'd know I will do practically anything for someone I care for, and will forgive them to the moon and back. If I don't like someone? I'll write them off for one little thing, with little chance for change.

There's a quote that describes this perfectly, and my high school best friend and I had it in the yearbook under our "friend" picture:

"If you don't like someone, the way he holds his spoon will make you furious; if you do like him, he can turn his plate over in your lap and you won't mind."   Irving Becker

I have (arguably) three tattoos right now- and specific plans for two more in the very near future. And in-the-works plans for at least two more.

I absolutely love having friends over and hosting get-togethers, but the cleaning beforehand stresses me out and my inner hermit has a panic attack.  "Whatever" friends- the kind that will laugh if you answer the door in your house robe at 12N, have fur-floofs in the corners that could have their own collars, and won't get annoyed when Max dive-bombs them on the couch for scratches- are the best, but hard to find and develop when you move a lot.

I respond to most stories about people's human kids with "Sloan did that, too!" or "When Max was a puppy, he..." Yep. I'm that person.

Sloan often offers the "kind of help we all can do without."  Also, if you get that reference, our friendship is meant to be.

I am non-competitive to the point that Paul refuses to play games with me. Apparently it's no fun for him if I have a good time losing. I blame this on being the youngest of four... relatedly, if there is a third person getting in our car, I instinctively sit in the back seat.

My oldest sister calls me by the world's worst pet name. I hate it. But I still whip-lash respond to it. (argh)

and no, you're not finding out what it is. I'd post nekkid pics online before I'd post that info.

I love finding things that are perfect for people, or remind me of them- and I wish I was a gazillionaire so I could buy the item(s) for them.

I'm 100% game for being mocked good-naturedly, provided two things: it's funny (don't waste my time or the great material I've given you), and I know and like you. If I don't know you and you join in- you're dead to me.

Even if I was stylish, this is why there are no outfit posts. Paul HATES taking pictures of me like that.  Here I just wanted him to document the fact that I was in 4" heels, and he took three pictures- all between me looking decent. This is when I was telling him I wasn't posing like Wonder Woman. argh.

I cross my toes. (Second toes (the longest) over my big toes.)

I have a vocabulary I wouldn't dare use around my mother. I also have the gutter-mind of a 14-year-old boy... and often giggle to the point I have to explain slang or euphemisms to my mother. (MILF was the latest one... awkward!)

Relatedly, there are words I don't like used around me. I've gotten better about saying something as the years have gone on, and I try to explain respectfully why I find those words cruel and offensive. At the very least, I ask that friends not use them around me- and I do my absolute best to not use words that offend friends (hence my sailor mouth's off switch).

I don't believe in love at first sight, I don't believe in "meant to be", I don't believe in "happily ever after".  I take great issue with pop-culture and media's unrealistic views of  'love'.  I believe in a good dose of lust and a whole lot of hard-freakin'-work. 

Paul contributed this one: I make sex-noises in completely non-sexual situations, and unintentionally. Such as when moving furniture. Or opening a tough jar.

This was during our move last year. Paul refused to ask any of his friends to help us and we're too cheap to pay anyone for a 7-mile move, so we did it all ourselves. I told Paul this picture is my insurance, for any potential future court proceedings between us.

I am completely unable to speak intelligibly when I'm half-asleep. I will try, and I can hear myself not making words, but I can't stop it, fix it, or do anything but try (and fail) again. Paul thinks it's the funniest thing ever, and has threatened to record it on multiple occasions.

While I'm aware of (almost) all of my 'issues' and faults, I'm content to ignore them and live with them.  They're part of me, right??

I have very strong opinions, but I usually like to know as much as possible about the opposing argument, to the point that I'll play devil's advocate if Paul or another friend will engage with me.

I name the things I depend on: my cameras, my cars, my computers. And I refer to them by name. To the point that, before I was with Paul, I was asked two different times if my boyfriend was "Jack".  No- that's my Jeep.

I frequently make up words, or adapt real words into other parts of speech, and I have a hard time not typing that on the internet- particularly to friends on FB. I try not to, though, because I really don't want someone I don't know to read it and think I'm a moron.

Paul was taking a picture of me with my Belgian beer. Only it came out as a mug shot. His smile/shutter timing is off...

So then I tried to take my own picture.  And things got ridiculous.

This was after a 6.5% beer... and a 4%. I'm a bit of a lightweight.

Have you done a "If you really knew me" post? Link to it in the comments!

6 Inspiration Sunday

As those of you who follow me on Twitter know, we were in Scotland for the past three days.

We stayed in Oban, a pleasant little harbor town that connects to the Treshnish and Hebrides Isles, and we went to see Lunga, Staffa, and Iona. There will be many posts about this trip over the week. 

Something tragic occurred while we were on Staffa, though, and while it didn't happen to us and we were over a ridge when it happened, we heard the scream of a woman watching her husband slip and fall to his death.

Standing and watching the aftermath, there was no way to escape the thoughts that come flooding after a tragedy like this.  There are so many things that went through my head: retrospection ("I slipped on the steep slope on Lunga..." "I just walked over that same path..."), a flood of emotion ("What if that had been Paul that fell..." "That man got off the boat to see Staffa, never knowing this was it for him..."), and the gut-wrenching thought of the man's wife having to travel back home, alone, and continue her life with such an abrupt change.

All that is to tell you why I've picked today's quote out of my old notebook.

Whatever you want to do, do it now.  There are only so many tomorrows.

Michael Landon

Seagulls at Iona

9 Dogs as Children: The Things We Say

We have dogs (and a dog in a cat's body) as our kids.  I know human children are different, but, given the stories I hear from my friends who are moms to small humans, they're really not all that different. 

My favorite tochases in the world.

Case in point, at least for our family: 

Girls potty train faster and easier than boys.

Sloan peed inside twice, at the tender age of four weeks.  We thought we were pros, until Max proved us wrong by not giving a lick where or when he pottied- and took over a month to learn to care.

They eat things they shouldn't and get into things they shouldn't.

Granted, mine tend to eat poo and plastic food wrappers over crayons and play-dough, but I bet they'd be willing to try the latter if given the opportunity.

They get really excited to see their Nanny (my mom's "grandma" name).

They jump on her and dig in her suitcase when she arrives (looking for tennis balls) and want to be with her at all times. Sloan is a monstrous whiner whenever my mom is out of sight.

and so on.

Anyway, I've been jotting down a little list of things I say to them, as their mommy. 

Hopefully you get a laugh out of these!

(warning: If you've not spent much time around dogs, these may seem rather crude.  Sorry.)

The happy face of a fetchaholic.

This I Hope You Never Have to Say to Human Children

Get your nose out of your sister's vagina!

(and vice-versa)

We don't sniff other people's poop; that's how you get a tummy ache.

Stop learning how words are spelled!

If you don't stop running your mouth, you're going to bark a poop out!

Sloan actually did bark a poop out once, when she was about a year old. It was hilarious, and I'm pretty sure Paul's hoping it happens again- he starts laughing just at the memory!

He's a professional couch-tester.  Okay, so no one's paying him, but really. He's a pro.

Things You Might Say to Your Human Children

Don't you dare lay down in that puddle/mud!

Ewww, you slimed me!

Usually meaning slobber or river-drool in our case.

Stop sitting on the printer!

Yep, this one's Mia- she's a big fan of the printer, even though it's not on unless I'm using it.

Come here so I can get your boogie- 

Here, eat your boogie. I don't want it on me.

The first part you might say; I'm guessing you'd discourage the second!!

(This is regarding eye boogies, for the record.)

The most cat-like thing about her: she cannot resist a box.  The donuts were long gone by the time Sloan confiscated this from the recycling. 

This You Probably Do Say to Your Children

The couch is NOT a playground!

I will pull this car over if you don't stop barking!

Okay, so you probably don't say 'barking', but you get the idea.

Put your penis away; I don't want it in my pictures!

Poor Max's hip issues cause him to sit at a funny angle, making his wankie (it's funnier that way) stick out.  That's the only thing I do photoshop!

Max is very much a Momma's boy, so moments like this are rare- and even more rare that I'm able to capture them! 

Any of y'all with furry family members have some phrases I've left out?  Any of you with human kids have any good stories?

8 Photography Composition Tips!

 I promised you a treat… and hopefully you'll accept this. There are photo tips all over the internet, some technical, some film, some digital, some on camera settings, etc.

I'm sure this is the 4,056,586,801 post on composition tips. But here are some I've gathered from the recesses of my photog brain for you.

Yes, many of these tips can be adjusted for in editing- especially with digital images. However, it's much simpler to just teach your eye to compose within the camera. Cropping can be a great tool when you physically can't get close enough, or your horizon ends up wonky (I swear my face is crooked. It happens.), but if you're relying on cropping for every image, you're not only wasting your time, you're not developing your eye as a photographer.  You're also probably not getting the best information to work with in your final image.

I'm going to go ahead and assume you've heard about the Rule of Thirds, and are implementing it.

If you're not, fix that.

You're welcome.

 Check for poles/trees/etc. growing out of your subject's head. Or arm. Or thigh. Really, just look around, and shift yourself or your subject to remove anything awkward. 

Yes, this picture is dorky, but that's mostly because Sloan declined to cooperate, and she's my model.

Also, yes, I know that this dress/booty combo gives me the general body shape of a gnome, but it's comfy and summery, and I love it. And even though many a strong breeze has offered various parts of Europe some mid-day full moons... I digress.

Don't amputate your subjects.  There are certain points that are less disconcerting to cut off a subject- just below a joint (knee/elbow) or just below the natural waist. 

See how awkward Max's placement seems? (This is also an example of why the Rule of Thirds is effective.)

Here, he's still cut off at his butt- but there's enough slope of his back that it's much less awkward. 

 Don't let straight lines bisect your image, vertically or horizontally.

I chose this picture to have printed on a canvas print.  This is how they cropped it for the "wrap around." I called the company as soon as I received it and spent about 45 minutes on the phone with a representative who not only agreed that the crop was destructive to the image but she fixed it with me there on the phone, and emailed me the new proof with a mirror panel of the sky and ground used for the wrap.  In fact, I was so pleased with her service I'll tell you- it was Canvas on Demand. While I was disappointed with their initial offering, the representative's immediate attention to my dissatisfaction and the prompt replacement really was a credit to the company.

This is my original image- isn't that bit of ground and sky vital?

{Ring of Brodgar, Orkney Islands}

 Create natural visual paths for the viewer's eye to follow.

The images that we are instinctively absorbed into are the ones that keep our eyes moving throughout- notice how the arch of the building and the points of the Falkirk Wheel lead to one another, bringing your eye through the image? 

{Falkirk Wheel}

 Black and white brings out the best in some images, while color is the best medium for others. The two are NOT interchangeable.

Here's the photog in me coming out, but it drives me nuts when someone posts an album on Facebook or does a blogpost with the same images in color and black and white. First of all, proper black and white takes adjustments and tonal balancing- it is not achieved by just clicking the "black and white" button in Photoshop.  I shoot almost all of my film in black and white, as I'm sure you noticed in my "Why I Hold a Camera" series.  It helps bring my dog images out of "snapshot" range, and focuses the eye on patterns in my nature shots that otherwise might be overshadowed by vibrant colors.  I do shoot digitally in color, as Lightroom allows me the option of moving to B&W but I can't add in color after the fact.  Since most of my images now are of our travels to places I might never get another opportunity to photograph, I want all the information available to me.

Each image should be judged individually, if you're wanting to use both formats- for example, in a wedding shoot, B&W can add a timelessness, soften features, and direct attention to the gaze between two newlyweds without competing visual elements. Color, on the other hand, will show the brilliant bouquet, or even make the bride's white dress pop against a colorful background.  Each medium has its appropriate use.

While the top image would lose the magic of the stained glass' brilliant projection without color,

 here I wanted to concentrate on the lines of architecture- so I opted for black and white.

{Lincoln Cathedral, here and here}

Here are two images that hopefully show you several of these rules in a wrong/right comparison: 

This image feels unwieldy, and the tree trunk bisects the image despite not continuing through the bottom.  The heavy ground gives the wall a see-saw feeling, with the tree as its fulcrum.  While I'm sure you see the lamb, the image is not pleasing overall.

Here you have the wall and the tree trunk meeting at an angle right at the lamb- so your eye is drawn to him.  The tree branches on the top left even direct you in to him.  He's on the lower right, which is where I tend to weight my images.  An easy way to do this quickly when you're shooting on the fly and can't control your subject is to preset your single focal point to the area YOU are drawn to- some people prefer the left, some the right, some the lower center. If you're going to go with a point in the top half of the image, go for it- it can be harder, but I know photographers that successfully do it, time and again!   (I only know of the focal point select working with interchangeable lens cameras- DSLRs, SLRs, etc. If you know of a point-and-shoot that allows this, please comment below!)

Of course, all rules are meant to (and should!) be broken- but, like in most cases, photography "rules" are broken most successfully when the rule itself is mastered first!

Did you like this? Was it useful? Do you disagree with any of the tips? Do you have any questions? I'd love to hear feedback from you, so please leave your comments!! 

2 Inspiration Sunday

5 Why I Hold a Camera: Part V

Parts I, II, III, and IV. 

There was a list of things that we weren't supposed to photograph.

Unfortunately, I can't remember all of it. I do remember that it included rotted buildings, which I laugh about now that we live in a countryside known for picturesque crumbling stone buildings. 

Goofing-around pictures of friends, alcohol-related images, spanish moss, english ivy, railway trestles...

and dogs.

Well... I love animals, dogs are probably the most accessible animal, and Paul and I adopted Sloan in September 2003- right when I was starting my first official photography-major class. 

So I broke that rule, and terribly. At first.

I couldn't resist my cute puppy, and those images, where I tried to force the cute into artsy and failed in both departments, are atrocious. 

Now, my candid shots of my little princess? They're the most adorable in the world. 

However, by adopting Sloan and becoming a part of the sub-culture of dog-people, I discovered a purpose for my pent-up need to be an activist: animal welfare, including spay/neuter encouragement, adoption, and awareness of the stray dog issues that plight the Southeast in particular.

I set my mind to changing the world. Or at least opening some eyes.

I wanted to photograph the dogs that were euthanized at our local shelters due to overcrowding.

I knew this would be a heart wrenching activity, but I also knew I wanted to show the faces of these silent victims to the world. I wanted people to see my images and think how much that dog looked like their dog growing up, or how cuddly and non-mangy that other dog looked- not at all what an unwanted dog is "supposed" to look like.

What I didn't take into account was the red tape and bureaucracy I would encounter.

I spent the better part of a month calling, visiting, emailing, and politely harassing the shelters in five different counties, to no avail. One county actually sent a low-level district attorney to very kindly explain to me why I wouldn't be allowed to proceed with my project. 

(I made it very clear that I was not a protester, and in no way held the animal control officers as "killers"- I knew that most of them had last-minute rescues at home themselves, and many "volunteered" at their same place of employment during their free time, to try and give these unwanted animals the attention they desperately craved. I was not there to cast blame on an individual, but to show society at large the cost of our collective negligence.)

One last county's animal control director was set to let me in, and even seemed encouraged by my purpose and intention, but I received a morning-of email and phone call informing me that a higher-up had stepped in opposing me, after having been contacted by another county's official.

I was frustrated, angry, and hurt.

And my project was due.

I did the next best thing, and turned to actors- amateur, yes, but quite capable.

I showed up at my friends' homes in the late night/early morning hours, when their dogs would be groggy, exhausted, and compliant, and I photographed them.

I carefully explained this in my artist's statement, which my professor accepted.

What I didn't realize until I printed my final images was that each and every one of these dogs was adopted or rescued- meaning that my friends were possibly all that prevented them from becoming the unwanted dogs I'd intended to photograph.

By the time I got to Advanced Photography, which was our last class before our Exit (or thesis) class, I was committed to the dogs.  I was taking Sloan to the dog park in town every afternoon and some of my closest friends were the humans of her closest friends.  Watching these human-and-dog relationships, I realized that they weren't that different from a human-and-human companionship- and I decided to explore this.  We had a visiting instructor that semester, who was actually a graduate of the program herself.  Not only did she support me, but my classmates did, too- even when I second and third guessed myself.  I spent afternoons, evenings, and sometimes whole days with these pairs, and gave each person a print as a thank you for letting me into their space- and then demanding they forget I was there.

Yes, that's my Sloanie. She proved to be one of the hardest for me to photograph, as she was so used to engaging with my camera. This image ended up being one of the best-received during my department review, however, because of that tangible connection.

I spent the summer before my Exit class trying out different ideas, shooting rolls and rolls of film, and then collapsing at the dog park. There, my frustrations melted away as I became the wallpaper, the observer to this fringe society.  As I began to pay attention to these dogs, these creatures that masqueraded so well as part of our human world, I realized that here, in their land, I was the foreigner. I was welcomed, but at a distance; trusted, but not allowed to interact. (Well, other than throwing tennis balls and filling the water bucket.)  They were a society all to their own.

We had the department chair as our professor that semester- Stephen Scheer, a brilliant photographer with an enviable vita.  When I gave my project proposal, Stephen was skeptical.  However, as I worked that semester, he reviewed dozens of contact sheets with me, provided expert technical advice, and was an invaluable consultant.  His discerning eye helped keep me away from the cute cliché and kept me focused on maintaining the disconnect I needed to properly approach my subject.

As we hung our show, nine exhausted, sleep-deprived, bare-souled individuals, Stephen worked alongside us, measuring walls, moving nails, and even caught a typo I had. 

After I hung my last frame, we stepped back and looked it over.

He commented, "I wasn't sure you could do it. But you proved me wrong."

I got an A.

I chose to print and frame my artist's statement along with my final images.  I wanted the viewers to see it as a societal study; humanist photography, but of animals.  I wanted them to look beyond "man's best friend" and see the relationships and interactions as comparable to the ones we experience with other humans on a daily basis.

*These images are just parts of their series; there are more to each.

While we are done with my back-story, I've got (what I hope is) a treat in for you next Thursday-

so stick around!

3 Inspiration Sunday

The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances:

if there is any reaction, both are transformed. 

Carl Jung

Ducks and geese at Swinsty Reservoir.

7 Why I Hold a Camera: Part IV

 See Parts I, II, and III.

We've now gotten younger me into the photography program in the Lamar Dodd School of Art at University of Georgia. 

Because of my abandonment of my no-longer-required classes first semester freshman year (Fall '01), I lost my HOPE scholarship after Fall '02 semester (GA high school graduates get free tuition to state universities as long as a 3.0 average is maintained; this is calculated every 30 hours.). I had to pay for Spring semester 2003, but I figured out that if I took two Summer courses and got As in both, I could get HOPE back before Fall 2003, thus only having had to pay for one regular semester and one summer. 

I made another uncharacteristically mature decision-

I took two of the most challenging courses (for my education) that summer: Art History of Modern Photography and Intermediate Photography with Ben Reynolds.  Art Histories are always hard; if you've never taken any I'd recommend it, as I learned things that have come back to me in waves throughout our travels. History of Modern Photography was obviously pertinent to my work, but also taught me how the processes I was jumping into were developed and the trials and errors of the science of photography. I found inspiration and knowledge that I was (and am) able to apply to my own photography. 

Intermediate Photography doesn't sound too hard at face value, but Ben was a very challenging teacher. He was intolerant of lazy work and an artist (and person) I had(have) overwhelming respect for- meaning, I knew I would do EVERYTHING it took to do well in his class (I've got the youngest-child "need to please authority figures" thing full force), guaranteeing that I wouldn't be too lazy that summer and would not only get HOPE back but improve my photography.  I already knew that I learned/improved more when I felt I had something to prove, and, at the time, I wasn't sure Ben believed in me. I soon realized that was actually just me projecting my lack of confidence in myself, and, as I grew bolder in my work, more skilled in the lab, and able to defend my choices, I was able to hear the constructive part of Ben's criticisms and use it to my benefit. I came to trust and value Ben's opinions and critiques immensely, often harassing him in his office even when he wasn't my direct professor (yeah... sorry about that, Ben!).

I was right about that summer- although I ended the semester in exhausted tears, sure that there was no way I'd earned my As. 

I had, in both classes. It was one of the proudest, most accomplished, and most pass-out-from-relief moments of my life.

All of these are either photographs or scans of prints; I only shot film then (on my Canon Rebel 2000 35mm, my Mamiya C330 TLR, and a 4x5 camera owned by the photography department (I don't remember the brand, although I could find out if someone is interested.).  Many of the prints are too large (11"x14" or 16"x20") for my scanner, so I had to photograph them. Forgive the frame reflections on a couple and the awkward angles. I was merely capable at shooting slides when I had the department's set-up; on my own at home it's laughable!

Intermediate photography. 

All 35mm black and white.

 A print from Color class. We made our own prints on color enlargers, and, while I worked more in black and white in school, learning color balance on the enlarger made my more recent use of Adobe Lightroom as close to mental muscle-memory as a darkroom-to-computer transfer can get! 

This image isn't one of my best, by far, but I included it for a reason. It is the elevator of the North Deck parking deck, which stood next to the (now former) art building.  We often joked that the art school should have an annual "North Deck" show, because of the sheer number of photographs, sketches, and even paintings we art students had of the convenient structure!  I'm not sure what the ceramicists would have offered, but who knows? There might be little clay parking decks out there...

(Sometimes you just try to finish a roll, even if it's terribly uninspired.)

 Medium and Large Format (with Ben again!).  I did shoot some large format (referring to the film size: mostly 4"x5"; I had no interest in 8"x10"), but I naturally gravitated towards the familiar 120mm square of the Mamiya I had used in high school. This is when I ordered my own off of eBay. (See Sophie, my C330, in this post.)

Obviously I still shot some color in this class.

 A gentleman at a country flea market.

 Just something that delighted me at the time- color paper, unexposed, comes in varied GORGEOUS shades of blue.  I still have some random pieces from the end bits of boxes, and I love the colors!

 My fascination with patterns in nature continued throughout school.  I jokingly titled this series my "Bathroom Pictures", because I thought they looked like the pleasing but not too interesting pictures that might be used to decorate bathrooms. 

When we were picking pictures to hang around our house in Idaho, I flipped through these... and three of them made it into the bathrooms.

(These are printed from 4"x5" negatives.)

 A loose print from the series.

 More 'patterns in nature', but this time back with my trusty C330. I've framed seven of these and they hang in our hallway and guest bedroom. 

 Special Topics, or Alternative Processes, was my absolute favorite of the instructional classes.  Not only was it with one of my favorite professors, Michael Marshall (we had previously had him for our Digital class), but learning all of the more hands-on processes fascinated me. We used chemicals and processes discovered by some of the earliest photographers, and I think that, despite the "study of light" being an obvious focus throughout our classes, I truly learned how to both manipulate and trust in light in this class. All of our images were contact images, meaning the negative was placed flush on the paper and the two were exposed to light (nearly always sunlight), usually using a contact printing frame.

Two different cyanotypes.  These were made from a scanned negative, digitally enlarged, and reprinted. 

For my final project in Special Topics I shot abstracted images of the animals at Yellow River Game Ranch, a sort of wildlife preserve for normally wild animals found in and around Atlanta. These animals are incredibly tame, and will follow you around begging for the treat-bags everyone buys at the entrance. I knew I'd get the access and close proximity to these that I wouldn't get with any other non-domesticated animals.  I was also taking a Book and Papermaking class (my second love in the arts- paper making is my zen) and, while I wasn't able to print my tannotypes (cyanotypes toned with tannic acid) on handmade paper due to sizing issues, I did bind my final images in a book, which I'm quite proud of to this day.

Unfortunately for my visitors who get it shoved in their faces, it's not small... about 16"x18"!

Next week I'll dive into how I broke a huge rule, but ended up getting away with it. All the way through my Exit show.