I've been doing this really great thing lately called "getting-up-earlier-than-everybody-else." It is in the wee hours of the early morning where the house has this certain stillness that it doesn't have at any other time of day. Even late at night the house still feels like it is buzzing from the business of the day that is left over. Laundry may still be tumbling in the dryer, the dish washer may be running, the television is most certainly on-flashing images of things that mean nothing to me or my wife. Beyond the noise makers, though, the house in the evening still feels like it has electricity running through it. Like it is trying to settle down and relax but has too many thoughts in its head.
The mornings are not like this. I can sit still in the morning and it feels like the world is sitting still with me. At least my world I've built around myself sits still. In these moments I can breathe. I can take my time. Even though I know that in just an hour or so the day will begin its relentless unwinding, the gears will start to turn faster and the inner workings that make up a day will begin to tick-tock and before I know it there will be traffic and photographs, and paperwork, and time clock and smiling at clients, and the world will once again awake. It seems that in this moment-the early moments-one can simply pause and watch the beast sleep and realize how beautiful a creature it is while it just lies there softly breathing.
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Friday, October 18, 2013
second spring
In grade school either in text books, or worksheets, or printed on a colorful poster with cartoony drawings it is taught that there are indeed four season. Say them with me now: Summer, Spring, Winter, Fall (or Autumn if you so choose). Question: why does Fall get two names? Anyway-the point being their are indeed four season. No more, no less. Not even during a leap year. Neither El Nino nor global warming can change this. We have four seasons. Done.
Unless you live in Texas. Well, I guess I can only speak of Fort Worth because I've never lived anywhere else in Texas, but there are clearly more than four seasons in Fort Worth, Texas. There is Fall, which hits about mid November and quickly leads to Winter. Winter has its fair share of below freezing weather and usually we get a good snow in at least for a day or two. Then comes spring. Spring lasts for approximately three weeks, long enough to get photographs taken with the roadside bluebonnets and then BOOM, it's Summer. Summer lasts for six months-typically April through September.
Then comes...Second Spring? Second Spring is that few weeks where we can enjoy a bit cooler weather, and are reminded what rain is. It's during this time that the grass grows again and the leaves on the trees turn green...before they eventually turn those warm Autumn colors. Welcome to Second Spring.
Second Spring is always nice at first because my grass begins to grow again and sort of lets me know that it isn't dead and gone forever, which I always assume it is. I mean, that crunching sound underfoot during those Summer months are never a reassuring sense, yet every Second Spring the grass perks right up and says, "I was here the whole time, underground, shielding my green skin from the sun! Just wanted to stand up, stretch my legs a bit before I go down for the big sleep, the one that lasts until the First Spring!" Second Spring is a sort of odd feeling in and of itself. It's out of place. It's the awkward person in the room that says things that relate to nothing but no one has the heart to ask the reasons why. It isn't like First Spring-or Original Spring-where the world feels like it was hibernating, staying inside for weeks at a time; burning fire in our fireplaces and wrapping scarves around our necks, emerging only when we see those first signs of Original Spring. Those buds on the tips of the trees. The days warming ever so slightly. Cold mornings that fade into warm days, those days where I can start off with a coat and be in short sleeves by early afternoon. Ah! so refreshing is Original Spring. Refreshing because by the time Original Spring arrives we are ready for it! We've been waiting for it! We've been shivering in our shoes for six weeks (the average Texas winter)! All the signs of Original Spring start showing up. Birds are singing, flowers are blooming, troubadours discover new inspiration and begin writing their suggestive songs of nature's version of match.com: SPRING!
So, what about Second Spring? Well, Second Spring comes at a sort of awkward time during the year. You see, Fall sort of ushers in the holidays-you know-Pumpkin Spice Latte season! October is all about Halloween. November, Thanksgiving which gives way to Winter and the Father of all other holidays Christmas. Anyway, after having sweat it out for half a year during our incredibly long Summer we are ready for Fall, just as we were ready for Original Spring. We are ready to open the windows and let the cool air come fill up our homes. We are ready for the colors to start changing on the trees and to start putting on long sleeves and long pants and begin planning holiday events, Halloween parties, Christmas shopping, looking forward to Grandma's turkey on Thanksgiving Day! We busy ourselves and our minds with Fall. Advertisers change their campaigns, retail stores stock their shelves with winter items, and-like I said-tastebuds start warming towards hot cocoa, pumpkin pies, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, and banana pudding. Then it starts to rain. And it rains for a while. The rain comes and then goes and then comes again. The skies turn cloudy and the rain drops fall towards Texas and things turn green again, but this time the birds-you know-they are already here. And the flowers, yeah they've been blooming for a while now because we've had to keep watering them on our own-no thanks to Summer. The hibernation has been over for six, seven, eight long months. Everyone asks what the heck is Spring doing back? Second Spring is the house guest who has warn out their welcome, and the day comes to drive them back to the airport (Hallelujah), so you drive and drop them off and say your good byes and drive back home and sit on your couch and say to yourself, "It's so nice to just be back in my house by myself again...sigh..." when the doorbell rings and they're back again. Apparently there were some problems at the airport and they can't leave for another few days and by the way, the cab driver needs some money.
The good news is, it will go away, and it will go away soon. Maybe not soon enough, but usually after Halloween. Hopefully sooner. It will go straight from Second Spring into Fall and the nights will grow cold and the days will get cooler and the leaves in the trees will start to turn, but don't expect it to last for any real length of time. It seems that as soon as they start to turn, they promptly fall from the branches. I still find I am able to enjoy Fall thoroughly enough what with the holidays firmly in place that help make it enjoyable. Still I find myself yearning for those crisp Fall days of cool weather and blue, blue skies. Those mornings filled with light and color and lighter attitudes as our attention focuses on upcoming holidays, gift giving, family, and the hope that a new year brings. Yes, Second Spring, you did your thing, you let yourself be known, but I think it's time for you to go. Please, we already spent some time with you this year, don't be like Summer and over stay your welcome. Sorry Spring it just isn't the same the second time around.
Unless you live in Texas. Well, I guess I can only speak of Fort Worth because I've never lived anywhere else in Texas, but there are clearly more than four seasons in Fort Worth, Texas. There is Fall, which hits about mid November and quickly leads to Winter. Winter has its fair share of below freezing weather and usually we get a good snow in at least for a day or two. Then comes spring. Spring lasts for approximately three weeks, long enough to get photographs taken with the roadside bluebonnets and then BOOM, it's Summer. Summer lasts for six months-typically April through September.
Then comes...Second Spring? Second Spring is that few weeks where we can enjoy a bit cooler weather, and are reminded what rain is. It's during this time that the grass grows again and the leaves on the trees turn green...before they eventually turn those warm Autumn colors. Welcome to Second Spring.
Second Spring is always nice at first because my grass begins to grow again and sort of lets me know that it isn't dead and gone forever, which I always assume it is. I mean, that crunching sound underfoot during those Summer months are never a reassuring sense, yet every Second Spring the grass perks right up and says, "I was here the whole time, underground, shielding my green skin from the sun! Just wanted to stand up, stretch my legs a bit before I go down for the big sleep, the one that lasts until the First Spring!" Second Spring is a sort of odd feeling in and of itself. It's out of place. It's the awkward person in the room that says things that relate to nothing but no one has the heart to ask the reasons why. It isn't like First Spring-or Original Spring-where the world feels like it was hibernating, staying inside for weeks at a time; burning fire in our fireplaces and wrapping scarves around our necks, emerging only when we see those first signs of Original Spring. Those buds on the tips of the trees. The days warming ever so slightly. Cold mornings that fade into warm days, those days where I can start off with a coat and be in short sleeves by early afternoon. Ah! so refreshing is Original Spring. Refreshing because by the time Original Spring arrives we are ready for it! We've been waiting for it! We've been shivering in our shoes for six weeks (the average Texas winter)! All the signs of Original Spring start showing up. Birds are singing, flowers are blooming, troubadours discover new inspiration and begin writing their suggestive songs of nature's version of match.com: SPRING!
So, what about Second Spring? Well, Second Spring comes at a sort of awkward time during the year. You see, Fall sort of ushers in the holidays-you know-Pumpkin Spice Latte season! October is all about Halloween. November, Thanksgiving which gives way to Winter and the Father of all other holidays Christmas. Anyway, after having sweat it out for half a year during our incredibly long Summer we are ready for Fall, just as we were ready for Original Spring. We are ready to open the windows and let the cool air come fill up our homes. We are ready for the colors to start changing on the trees and to start putting on long sleeves and long pants and begin planning holiday events, Halloween parties, Christmas shopping, looking forward to Grandma's turkey on Thanksgiving Day! We busy ourselves and our minds with Fall. Advertisers change their campaigns, retail stores stock their shelves with winter items, and-like I said-tastebuds start warming towards hot cocoa, pumpkin pies, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, and banana pudding. Then it starts to rain. And it rains for a while. The rain comes and then goes and then comes again. The skies turn cloudy and the rain drops fall towards Texas and things turn green again, but this time the birds-you know-they are already here. And the flowers, yeah they've been blooming for a while now because we've had to keep watering them on our own-no thanks to Summer. The hibernation has been over for six, seven, eight long months. Everyone asks what the heck is Spring doing back? Second Spring is the house guest who has warn out their welcome, and the day comes to drive them back to the airport (Hallelujah), so you drive and drop them off and say your good byes and drive back home and sit on your couch and say to yourself, "It's so nice to just be back in my house by myself again...sigh..." when the doorbell rings and they're back again. Apparently there were some problems at the airport and they can't leave for another few days and by the way, the cab driver needs some money.
The good news is, it will go away, and it will go away soon. Maybe not soon enough, but usually after Halloween. Hopefully sooner. It will go straight from Second Spring into Fall and the nights will grow cold and the days will get cooler and the leaves in the trees will start to turn, but don't expect it to last for any real length of time. It seems that as soon as they start to turn, they promptly fall from the branches. I still find I am able to enjoy Fall thoroughly enough what with the holidays firmly in place that help make it enjoyable. Still I find myself yearning for those crisp Fall days of cool weather and blue, blue skies. Those mornings filled with light and color and lighter attitudes as our attention focuses on upcoming holidays, gift giving, family, and the hope that a new year brings. Yes, Second Spring, you did your thing, you let yourself be known, but I think it's time for you to go. Please, we already spent some time with you this year, don't be like Summer and over stay your welcome. Sorry Spring it just isn't the same the second time around.
Friday, October 11, 2013
my apologies to you, autumn
Autumn, I would like to apologize for not recognizing that you had arrived until now. What a horrible, awful, inconsiderate host am I for not acknowledging you for the first three weeks you've even been in town! I'm sure you must hate me and if so I completely understand, I would too in your position.
It's not like I had no idea you were here. I mean, the signs were everywhere. I would wake up in the morning and you had left some of your clothes right there on the floor by the couch, I found myself washing towels more often, and the milk in the fridge was half empty the day after I bought it! The air conditioning isn't running half as much anymore and the mornings outside are wonderful. So, don't think it was like I didn't notice or anything. Oh I noticed! And even if it wasn't so obvious-with your cool mornings and the thin layer of moisture, little teeny tiny beads of water droplets that haven't fallen from the sky but drifted ever so gently through the night air, while I slept and fought off the alarm clock, and then decided to make its eternal resting place on the hood, the roof, and window, and bed of my truck-be well aware that Starbucks sure made it known with the early arrival of another seasonal guest (one, I must admit, that isn't so kind and quiet as yourself) the PUMPKIN SPICED LATTE a.k.a. hashtag PSL. #PSL came early this year in case you or I or my twitter account, or both my emails, and even my old school mailbox didn't know it is EARLY THIS YEAR. #PSL! YUMMY FALL GOODNESS!STARBUCKS! #PSL! enough...
Anyway.
I know that even though you haven't said anything you still must be feeling a little sore over how my feelings have changed over the years about Summer. You've got to realize, though, that Summer is one charmer of a season. When she comes over it's all sunshine and snowcones and splashing in the pool and no school and the Fourth of July! Come on now, you've got to give her that, she brings the Fourth of July! My point is that Summer offers all these awesome things and I just get all caught up in the middle of it all. Grant it, Summer quite often wears out her welcome, especially in Texas when it doesn't rain for days on end and the over 100 degree temperatures is sure to kill every green thing that comes out of the ground, but still you have to admit she's a pretty fun season to hang out with. Please realize this: everyone is always so grateful to see you when you do arrive because we know that means you are about to usher Summer right out the door and the time has come to slow down a bit-stop with the Summer vacations, stop with the pool parties, it's time to slow back down to a normal pace. Hey, the fact that you bring in the new school year is celebration enough that you, over all of the seasons should be proud. Don't think I don't realize that school starts up again when you arrive, which means I don't have to find ways to entertain my children twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. I mean, that's why we invented Summer camp, but don't worry, Summer's camp isn't half as great as your School is. Yes. School in the Fall is a blessing unto itself and if you did this single thing alone every parent across the globe are forever indebted to you, my dear.
Pardon my forgetting, but what do you take in your coffee again?
Where was I-oh, your being the start of school. Yes, you know all of us parents are forever grateful for you bringing the start of school, but you-a season of such character-you could have just brought school and left the rest for Old Man Winter to take care of, but no you go above and beyond. You turn the trees into beautiful warm colors, Halloween and Thanksgiving come during your visit and both holidays-in their unique ways-have a lot to do with eating too much food and you know how much we all like to eat too much food! Ah, yes, Autumn, it is a treat that you are home now. I am so sorry I didn't say hello earlier. What do you say to sitting outside with me around the fire pit? It is perfect weather for it!
It's not like I had no idea you were here. I mean, the signs were everywhere. I would wake up in the morning and you had left some of your clothes right there on the floor by the couch, I found myself washing towels more often, and the milk in the fridge was half empty the day after I bought it! The air conditioning isn't running half as much anymore and the mornings outside are wonderful. So, don't think it was like I didn't notice or anything. Oh I noticed! And even if it wasn't so obvious-with your cool mornings and the thin layer of moisture, little teeny tiny beads of water droplets that haven't fallen from the sky but drifted ever so gently through the night air, while I slept and fought off the alarm clock, and then decided to make its eternal resting place on the hood, the roof, and window, and bed of my truck-be well aware that Starbucks sure made it known with the early arrival of another seasonal guest (one, I must admit, that isn't so kind and quiet as yourself) the PUMPKIN SPICED LATTE a.k.a. hashtag PSL. #PSL came early this year in case you or I or my twitter account, or both my emails, and even my old school mailbox didn't know it is EARLY THIS YEAR. #PSL! YUMMY FALL GOODNESS!STARBUCKS! #PSL! enough...
Anyway.
I know that even though you haven't said anything you still must be feeling a little sore over how my feelings have changed over the years about Summer. You've got to realize, though, that Summer is one charmer of a season. When she comes over it's all sunshine and snowcones and splashing in the pool and no school and the Fourth of July! Come on now, you've got to give her that, she brings the Fourth of July! My point is that Summer offers all these awesome things and I just get all caught up in the middle of it all. Grant it, Summer quite often wears out her welcome, especially in Texas when it doesn't rain for days on end and the over 100 degree temperatures is sure to kill every green thing that comes out of the ground, but still you have to admit she's a pretty fun season to hang out with. Please realize this: everyone is always so grateful to see you when you do arrive because we know that means you are about to usher Summer right out the door and the time has come to slow down a bit-stop with the Summer vacations, stop with the pool parties, it's time to slow back down to a normal pace. Hey, the fact that you bring in the new school year is celebration enough that you, over all of the seasons should be proud. Don't think I don't realize that school starts up again when you arrive, which means I don't have to find ways to entertain my children twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. I mean, that's why we invented Summer camp, but don't worry, Summer's camp isn't half as great as your School is. Yes. School in the Fall is a blessing unto itself and if you did this single thing alone every parent across the globe are forever indebted to you, my dear.
Pardon my forgetting, but what do you take in your coffee again?
Where was I-oh, your being the start of school. Yes, you know all of us parents are forever grateful for you bringing the start of school, but you-a season of such character-you could have just brought school and left the rest for Old Man Winter to take care of, but no you go above and beyond. You turn the trees into beautiful warm colors, Halloween and Thanksgiving come during your visit and both holidays-in their unique ways-have a lot to do with eating too much food and you know how much we all like to eat too much food! Ah, yes, Autumn, it is a treat that you are home now. I am so sorry I didn't say hello earlier. What do you say to sitting outside with me around the fire pit? It is perfect weather for it!
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
an open letter to michael chabon
Dear Michael,
I want to be a writer and I'm writing to you about this because we have a few things in common and I'm thinking that a lot of time friends become friends based on the things they have in common so, even if we can't be friends, maybe you can give me a little advice on the subject of writing. Namely: How to make it big? a.k.a. How to get started -or- You tell me what to do and I'm going to do it to a tee because I think you're a literary genius. Just so you know, I've read like two and a half of your books and they are fantastic! Now I know you are thinking "Really, just two and a half of my books and you think I'm a literary genius?" The short answer, yes.
The long answer is that it is not only that but, like I mentioned earlier, there are things about you and I that go together. For starters you are a dad. Guess what? I'm a dad! You like comic books. I like comic books! I mean, I used to like comic books! When I was in high school! Another thing we have in common, you are a writer...(read my mind!). I'm a writer too! It's just that nobody knows my name yet-and that is precisely where you come in.
I'm sure you are also wondering why I've only read half of that book of yours. Well, the truth of the matter is that I went back to school and they make me read other literary geniuses like Homer and Blake and O'Brien and Twain and Hemingway and Faulkner and Miller, and even though they haven't made me read any of your work quite yet (I'm sure they will, it's still early in my semester) I had to interrupt one of your books of awesome to read one of theirs. I would have stood up for your work any day of the week and boycotted reading any of the required material but, y'know, there would be a quiz later on so... Anyway, I would have written to any one of those other geniuses but you are still alive and seemed the most approachable. I mean, I don't think I could have ever been BFF's with Hemingway or Blake besides. They don't know anything about Dr. Who or Superman.
Look at me rattling on like a star struck imbecile, back to the issue at hand. What is the best route for me to travel in order to become a literary genius like yourself. Well, I guess I should say a well known literary genius. Here is my situation. I'm married and have a full time job as a photographer. A great job-to be sure. Let me make it plain: I am blessed, but being able to add "Literary Genius" on my resume instead of "photographer" I thought would look and sound so much more prestigious. They always say never miss and opportunity to better oneself. Besides the full time job I, as I mentioned earlier, am a full time dad too. My wife and I do well for ourselves in our current careers but I've always had this dream of becoming a writer in hopes to one day establish myself as a bonafied literary genius-y'know, like yourself; so I'm thinking hey, Michael Chabon is a dad and a husband and a genius writer and likes superheroes and watches TV and probably hates four way stops just as much as the next person who hates four ways stops and I'm sure he will know what to do. Like any common American citizen I am positive Mr. Chabon will want to evoke his superhero fantasies of his childhood and see me, another common American citizen, in need. Maybe not in need of saving in the same sense of being trapped under a bus, but instead being trapped underneath a life a mediocrity. I may not be drowning in an undercurrent of river water, but instead am gasping for air at a job equal to that of stagnate water.
Since I think I've clearly shown just how absolutely normal a person I am and that if I lived in the same school district as you, and your kiddos, we would most certainly be co-members of the local PTA together (if not best friends) and hopefully you will understand and help out a friend in need (if not, at least a fellow common American).
Well, I've got to go start dinner for my family (as I'm sure you have to as well if it's around six or so in the evening when you read this), in the mean time I will await your response. I know you are a busy person but please get back to me ASAP, the world is always in need of another literary genius, like yourself.
Sincerely,
brandon hayman (future literary genius)
I want to be a writer and I'm writing to you about this because we have a few things in common and I'm thinking that a lot of time friends become friends based on the things they have in common so, even if we can't be friends, maybe you can give me a little advice on the subject of writing. Namely: How to make it big? a.k.a. How to get started -or- You tell me what to do and I'm going to do it to a tee because I think you're a literary genius. Just so you know, I've read like two and a half of your books and they are fantastic! Now I know you are thinking "Really, just two and a half of my books and you think I'm a literary genius?" The short answer, yes.
The long answer is that it is not only that but, like I mentioned earlier, there are things about you and I that go together. For starters you are a dad. Guess what? I'm a dad! You like comic books. I like comic books! I mean, I used to like comic books! When I was in high school! Another thing we have in common, you are a writer...(read my mind!). I'm a writer too! It's just that nobody knows my name yet-and that is precisely where you come in.
I'm sure you are also wondering why I've only read half of that book of yours. Well, the truth of the matter is that I went back to school and they make me read other literary geniuses like Homer and Blake and O'Brien and Twain and Hemingway and Faulkner and Miller, and even though they haven't made me read any of your work quite yet (I'm sure they will, it's still early in my semester) I had to interrupt one of your books of awesome to read one of theirs. I would have stood up for your work any day of the week and boycotted reading any of the required material but, y'know, there would be a quiz later on so... Anyway, I would have written to any one of those other geniuses but you are still alive and seemed the most approachable. I mean, I don't think I could have ever been BFF's with Hemingway or Blake besides. They don't know anything about Dr. Who or Superman.
Look at me rattling on like a star struck imbecile, back to the issue at hand. What is the best route for me to travel in order to become a literary genius like yourself. Well, I guess I should say a well known literary genius. Here is my situation. I'm married and have a full time job as a photographer. A great job-to be sure. Let me make it plain: I am blessed, but being able to add "Literary Genius" on my resume instead of "photographer" I thought would look and sound so much more prestigious. They always say never miss and opportunity to better oneself. Besides the full time job I, as I mentioned earlier, am a full time dad too. My wife and I do well for ourselves in our current careers but I've always had this dream of becoming a writer in hopes to one day establish myself as a bonafied literary genius-y'know, like yourself; so I'm thinking hey, Michael Chabon is a dad and a husband and a genius writer and likes superheroes and watches TV and probably hates four way stops just as much as the next person who hates four ways stops and I'm sure he will know what to do. Like any common American citizen I am positive Mr. Chabon will want to evoke his superhero fantasies of his childhood and see me, another common American citizen, in need. Maybe not in need of saving in the same sense of being trapped under a bus, but instead being trapped underneath a life a mediocrity. I may not be drowning in an undercurrent of river water, but instead am gasping for air at a job equal to that of stagnate water.
Since I think I've clearly shown just how absolutely normal a person I am and that if I lived in the same school district as you, and your kiddos, we would most certainly be co-members of the local PTA together (if not best friends) and hopefully you will understand and help out a friend in need (if not, at least a fellow common American).
Well, I've got to go start dinner for my family (as I'm sure you have to as well if it's around six or so in the evening when you read this), in the mean time I will await your response. I know you are a busy person but please get back to me ASAP, the world is always in need of another literary genius, like yourself.
Sincerely,
brandon hayman (future literary genius)
Friday, February 22, 2013
video :: scenes of winter
I remember a Valentine's Day where I awoke to tons of snow on the ground. It wasn't too long after I moved to Fort Worth and it was then I learned that, while a White Christmas was rare, we were almost guaranteed snow after the new year. As we approach the end of February snow isn't in the forecast, but today was quite cold and with it was a cutting wind. Quite beautiful
Friday, January 25, 2013
the hobbit :: a review
First a couple of disclaimers: I’m not a movie critic in any official
capacity whatsoever. I’m not up on the
latest art house indie darlings, nor am I a huge contributor towards giant,
explosive, karate-alien-super-soldier-villain-turned-hero summer blockbuster
films (in 3D!). I’m just a guy who likes
movies and likes the movies he likes because he likes them. Period.
I also was late to the party that was thrown (and apparently boycotted
by some) when Peter Jackson announced that The Hobbit would be filmed at 48 fps
therefore ushering in an entire new movie industry while the rest of us 24
framers just sit at home and watch our Hi-8 home movies until we cry. A co-worker actually informed me of this
newest controversy which I ignored since I live in a city that apparently isn’t
capable of even showing the film at such speeds.
Even though
I hold no degree in film, film making, or film history one thing is true: I,
like most people, love movies. As I
stated before, I like what I like because I like it, but before I say whether
or not I like The Hobbit allow me to explain what I was thinking before I paid
a visit to the box office.
A trilogy
Mr. Jackson, are you for real? I’ll give
it to you. I’ll give it to you that the
first three movies, which I was at the midnight showings for (that’s the night before regular people woke up) were
pretty amazing. Yes, I was a card
carrying member of the Lord of the Rings fan club. I read the books, I watched the movies, I
bought the DVDs, then I turned around and bought the extended director’s cut
special edition DVD boxed set with another hour and a half’s worth of movie…and
then I watched the special features. I
was that guy though I drew the line
at dressing up in costume. That never
happened. Even so, I was pretty happy watching
the academy awards after the final LOTR had been released and the Academy
pretty much gave LOTR every award there was unless it had to do with
acting. Sorry, but that’s the
truth. I remember thinking as the
credits rolled at Return of the King that yes, The Hobbit should be next.
My
apprehensions came when I learned that it was going to be two films. Having read the book I thought that two films
was a bit of a stretch. I mean, it has
been a while, but I remember the book being a fairly easy read with simple
language and a fun undertone; obviously meant for kiddoes. So, how exactly will he stretch this into two
feature films? I equate it with adapting
Goodnight Moon into a full fledged television series. After realizing that Mr. Jackson never asked me
and that when it came down to it the two-part-er has no bearing on my life, I
moved on, got over it, and forgot about it.
Until I
learned he was going to make it into three movies. Okay, hold up. A trilogy?
You mean, like three big long movies-epic ones-like LOTR only a prelogy
to LOTR? After learning about the
planned trilogy the whole idea became a giant money-grab for me. Just another way for Jackson,
Hollywood,
Warner Bros., etc. to pad their pockets and fill the theaters with fluff and
feather and leave the pillow fighting up to the viewers and critics to figure
out if it was all worth it, knowing all the while that for us to find out if it
is worth it we’d have to pony up the money first. In fact I wouldn’t have seen the film at all
had it not been for my oldest son who was really excited about it. Soon enough I found the two of us paying for
tickets and walking into the theater.
Since I had
pre-conceived thoughts of the entire franchise being a money-grab I opted out
of the 48 frame per second edition and the
3D. Good ol’ fashioned 2D and 24 slow
frames per second for my old eyes.
Therefore I can’t give a report about the picture. Even if I had seen it at the faster rate I
don’t know enough about the subject matter to give any voice to it anyway. What I do know is that it was nice to start
at the film’s ending and at the beginning of the first. Meaning it was nice to see the old Bilbo
Baggins and Frodo again, if nothing else for nostalgia’s sake. Seeing familiar faces at Bag End before Frodo
began his own adventure coupled with a soundtrack that I did fall in love with
stirred up that old excitement of the first films within me and truly made me
want to go home and watch the old films again.
It’s like coming across a photograph of yourself with your arm around
the neck of an old friend, and being reminded of all the great fun you had with
them, then missing them. Once the film
starts you have to suffer a little back story beforehand that helps you put
into perspective the reason why these dwarfs need to take back their mountain,
but as soon as that big round door comes into view it seems that all the mayhem
of before and all the darkness that is yet to come years down the road doesn’t
even matter; if Frodo and Bilbo are content with their simple lives, then so
too am I.
In
hindsight, I realized that 45 minutes of the movie passes before Bilbo even
begins his journey to the Lonely Mountain, but I really wasn’t bothered by it because
spending time in Bag End is like when I take a trip home to South
Louisiana. There time sort
of slows down and I’m forced to sit back and just listen to the wind. One can never spend too much time in Bag End,
like the good ol’ South I’m sure the food alone is reason enough to never leave. Of course if two more movies are soon to come
after this one then yes, eventually Bilbo must be off on an adventure of his
own, and so the movie’s momentum finally begins.
Like the
other films that came before it, The Hobbit doesn’t really slow down once the
adventure starts. Of course the parts
that are my favorite are the parts I remember from reading the book, namely the
goblins that turn to stone and of course Gollum deep inside the cavern. That isn’t to say I haven’t got new favorite
parts, such as the meeting between Gandalf, Elrond, Saruman, and Galadriel; and
the moment in which Bilbo saves a life.
For me the entire film is a journey back to the places I loved
before. Seeing them again on the big
screen while new characters-along with a couple of older ones-travel them is
just as fun. Each scene is beautifully
photographed as before and Martin Freeman’s portrayal of Bilbo is spot on. As an audience member you are never quite
sure if Bilbo is in or out. At one
moment he is the hero he is told to be, another moment he is the coward he
knows he is. Which direction he takes
seems to change by the second and even Bilbo himself seems surprised to have
made it as far as he has once the last shot goes dark.
In
preparing to write this review, I read some reviews of my own, just to get a
feel for what was being said, and to educate myself a little more about the
hype surrounding the film and its touted 48 fps. One critic noted that by the end of the movie
he was all in. I have to admit that the
filmmakers’ hinting at the dragon that is just waking up inside the mountain
underneath its own mountain of gold and treasure was a perfect way to end the
film. I found myself siding with the
critic as I debated what I really thought about the movie. Is it a money-grab? Yes, it most certainly is, but it can be
argued what isn’t a money-grab in Hollywood
these days? Is it overkill? Yes, and so were the extended director’s cut
special edition DVD boxed set that I bought of LOTR, and loved every minute of
it. Do I like the film? The answer may not be as obvious as The
Hobbit’s predecessors, but if the next film serves up a halfling facing down a
fire breathing dragon then the answer is a definite, “Two tickets,
please.”
Monday, January 7, 2013
old man winter
Old Man Winter should be cold and the skies should be gray. The only way to find comfort in his presence is to wear a scarf, earmuffs, and a knit hat. If not, the wind from his breath will truly numb the tips of your fingers and toes. He begs for hot chocolate to be served and a glowing fire in the house. A sunny day isn't a characteristic he prides himself in, even if the temperatures are below freezing. His mornings are frost-bitten, his nights bitter and cold like crushed ice they crunch underfoot. During the day the sun hides behind a veil of clouds, fog, and mist, threatening Winter's perfect day, but never making good on his threat. The sun stays back a ways knowing his time will come and be filled with swimming pools, beaches, barbecues, and hot, humid, nights. For now, winter has his way. I bundle up and take a walk through the park appreciating Winter's handiwork as much as I appreciate those summer nights. In Texas we seldom see much of Old Man Winter so I want to spend as much time with him as I can.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
shooting film in a digital world
Recently the world of photography has been transformed seemingly overnight by a little phrase called "digital". This shift from film cameras and capture to pixels and computers has really created a bit of a debate within the community. In the early days of digital capture, the technology really was not present; a digital camera that took one photograph that produced a one megabyte image would cost around $10,000. The cost benefit was not even present, but the instant gratification was impressive. Fast forward ten years, and we take a photo on our cell phone that can rival a 35mm photograph printed at a typical retail lab…or is that entirely true?
In today’s debate, it is not so much about instant gratification, but about something a bit deeper. Depending on who you may talk to it may be a quality issue. It may be a color issue. It may be an issue with sharpness. It may even just be a debate of ambiance or nostalgia, but whatever the issue is, it is debatable, and in a world where Kodak stopped producing one of its most famous film products, kodachrome slide film and their New York factory being leveled to the ground, there is a fear that film is indeed dead.
But, and it is a big but, film may be making somewhat of a comeback. Is it true what they say, what’s old is new again? In New York, a group of ex-Polaroid factory workers are at work, even now, on new instant film for all those Polaroid film enthusiasts that were stunned when Polaroid announced that they would stop producing all instant film altogether, leaving some 300,000,000 Polaroid film cameras, and their owners, with no film to shoot becoming paperweights overnight. (The Impossible Project, 2010) In the mean time, a successful California based fine art wedding photographer-Jose Villa-is busy creating breathtaking sun-drenched, pastel engagement portraits and wedding albums using the tools of photography that have been around for years, a Mamiya and a Holga camera and Fuji 120 and 220 film. His success, and the success of others who are following suit, bring up the question again, ten years after the digital bug began biting, is film dead? I have to argue, it is not.
Please understand that just because film isn’t dead, that does not mean that the world over should ditch their digital cameras and shoot film alone. In the digital age that would not only be a bad idea, but a very impractical one. The realization that digital has made photography more accessible to the amateur (by amateur I mean simply those people who do not make their living as a photographer) is noted and is appreciated. There is huge value in giving a mother an inexpensive digital point and shoot camera that allows her to preview pictures that she takes of her children instantly so that if the photo did not turn out, instead of missing the moment and leaving it to chance, she can-in a matter of seconds-re-take the picture making necessary corrections. Instead the idea is to say that film is here to stay and therefore let us explore the reasons why, its practical usage, and also to demonstrate how film can be incorporated into the digital world without slowing down the fast pace we have grown accustomed to.
If one must begin at any place why not examine film itself? A brief overview of film is that to the general public there was one size and it was called 35mm. Sold in rolls in small canisters, it was available with 24 or 36 photos-or frames-per roll. This was standard for all 35mm cameras and was the most commonly used. The professionals had other alternatives depending on their subject matter and the focus of their profession. More simply put, landscape photographers would use larger film formats, negatives that ranged in size from a 4x5 inch frame to an 8x10 inch frame. Portrait and wedding photographers didn’t need to go so big, so their film choice was usually medium format film, which was probably equal to two to three times the size of 35mm, thus giving higher quality and also the possibility for larger reprint sizes. All this is to say that the most current high-end digital camera models being sold today boast about having a full-framed sensor, meaning a sensor that is as big as a 35mm negative (Cambridge in Colour, 2012), and cost in the neighborhood of $6,000. There are digital cameras that have larger sensors than that of a 35mm negative available, and by larger I mean a 50 percent increase in size, that will cost about $30,000. (Hasselblad, 2012) That larger sensor still hasn’t matched the medium format film size, which is double that of a 35mm negative frame. There are some particulars here about pixels and fracturing and the sort of computer babble a lot of these kind of debates get into, but the long and short of it is this: when a photo is taken on 35mm film, when scanned with a film scanner at a good photo lab, it produces a 25 megapixel photo. (Rockwell, 2008, para 5) The $6,000 camera that was mentioned before takes pictures up to 16 megapixels, 9 pixels short of 25.
Now, the point isn’t to bore you with technical know-how, but one more point must be made when talking about film exclusively. Film records higher quality of color, color gradient, and highlight and lowlight details. This gets a little complicated, but I found it best explained by Diana Eftaiha, “…the digital image is captured on a grid of light sensitive pixels, and each of these pixels produces an image result depending on the amount of light hitting it. Where in film, light-sensitive elements are randomly distributed along the film emulsion, overlapping to create a sense of continuous color tone gradation. Pixels on the other hand are not overlapping, so when an image is enlarged beyond a significant extent, these pixels become more and more visible. Furthermore, pixels can only represent certain color values as solid blocks. This means that one pixel can only represent one color value even though the light and color information falling on it from the original scene can contain multiple values. And this is why digital photography is known to produce a non-continuous, incomplete gradation of color tones, an area in which film photography is still ahead of the whole new digital trend.” ( Eftaiha, 2010, para 6).
Now that we have explored film and explained its differences from digital capture, as well as touched on the actual cameras a bit as well, lets look at this from another point of view, maybe a bit more economic. What I have found, in our digital world, is that more time is spent staring into a glowing screen than time spent staring into another person’s eyes. That is just a personal statement from me. A lot of photographers became photographers in order to connect with people either with their photos or through them. A landscape photographer may not photograph people, but they enjoy showing their photos to them. They enjoy the interaction they have through their art and watching it cause a reaction in his or her audience. A portrait photographer is all about the subject, and capturing the essence of that person. A wedding photographer is all about the event, the people, the cake, the flowers, the details, the dress, the groom, the bride, the kiss; on and on it is all about recording the day and archiving it forever. Today’s photographer has been sucked into the editing process, he or she has been slowly drugged, little by little over the years until suddenly they are spending three or four hours with their client and 24 hours in post production after the shoot ends. When Florida wedding photographer Ricci Valladares was asked by Rangefinder Magazine about his switch back to photographing weddings with film he stated his biggest change had been his workflow. “No longer does he spend several hours after each wedding uploading, backing up, editing and doing postproduction on his images. Instead, he packages his film and ships it off to the lab. Two weeks later he receives a DVD of high-resolution scans and a collection of proof prints.” (Perkins, 2011, pg.116 ) Signed, sealed, delivered. That equates to more time spent with clients and doing what you love, taking pictures; and less time spent on a computer eating up the time you could spend shooting something more.
Like stated at the beginning of this paper, it is understood that the majority of photographers will shoot digitally. It is understood that many parents, vacationers, and enthusiasts alike love the convenience and cost benefit of digital. Digital cameras are more affordable than the old film ones were in their day. One can see the image as soon as it is taken and know if it is a good one or not. Prints cost literally pennies at your nearest one hour photo lab, nineteen cents last time I checked at Wal-mart (cheaper if you have it delivered straight to your home). At the end of the day, one can peruse the pictures taken at the park, the beach, the fair, graduation, etc. and simply delete the ones that were bad! No more paying for wasted shots! No more fumbling with film cameras and trying to figure out how they work! This will be the argument for the majority of the public. Even when asked, professionals will admit to their digital love affair, “Can they [pro photographers] get a better shot with 120 chrome [film] than a 20MP DSLR [digital camera]? Probably, but only by a modest amount. But the DSLR is just so much easier to work with, and so much more flexible that when the final goal is digital (as it almost always is today) the choice for these photographers is not very hard.” (Templeton, 2010). Yes, even for the professionals it is cheaper, it is quicker-depending on how fast one is on the computer, and it is what clients are demanding.
In our digital world, though, film can still be incorporated, rather seamlessly, into the fast-paced instant gratification culture. Both professional and retail store photo labs offer scanning of 35mm film which they turn and put onto a CD. Once home, all one needs to do is put it into a CD rom drive and wait for the prompts in order to save it to the computer or order more prints. For the professional this can all be streamlined relatively easy and worked into the regular flow of post production. Even so, there still exists a certain thrill of seeing a photograph in print. At the start of the digital revolution, many clients simply asked for a CD of all the images and thus the job was done. Little by little, much like how digital duped photographers everywhere into hours spent editing, professionals are turning the tables by offering prints, proofs, and albums that turn pixels back into prints and again gives clients something to hold on to and the ability to establish an emotional connection, much like the former generation could do with their parents’ old wedding photos.
Allow one final emotional argument to be made that will lean towards the fantastic and the aesthetics that make up the world we live in. Film looks beautiful. I myself shoot weddings, and when I post four or five shots on my photo blog, I am always asked about the film shots I post. The client always asks what I did to the photo taken with film. My answer is always, “Nothing.” It is exactly what the client looked like. That is exactly what the scene looked like. Film has a quality that one just can’t put their finger on. It has an ambiance that can not be described with words. Jose Villa, the California wedding photographer I mention in the beginning blogged this on his website, “Film has such a classic timeless feel I just don’t get with digital. When I have tried shooting digitally, I find I spend all my time working to make it look like film. Think about how bizarre that is, when you could just shoot film to start with.” (Villa, 2010, para 2) Valladares, the Florida wedding photographer said, “many photographers have observed that digital lacks some intangible quality-some call it warmth, some call it a ‘film feel’” (Perkins, 2011, pg 114).
Many photographers are film buffs. They grew up learning the craft on film. Learning, failing, and learning from that. Digital offers up a much faster learning curve, seeing your faults instantaneously. That does not necessarily make a better photographer. It also does not necessarily make a better photo. Shooting film also represents a time when everyone was not in such a hurry. One could take a photograph and keep walking, and not check the back of the camera to worry if it came out. Film offered, and still does, a lot of latitude when it came to the light it absorbed onto its face. Overexposed photos could be darkened, underexposed could be lightened. Sometimes the camera had a light leak which could offer up some surprising ghostly results that in the digital world no longer exists. Within the analog community, they have grown fond of film’s little imperfections that could often flare a photo red or yellow. An improperly loaded roll of film would offer double or triple exposed frames that were unexpected but can actually be looked at as little forms of found art. A sky overlapping one’s aunt overlapping the hotel while on vacation, telling an entire story in one frame rather than an entire roll of film. It is pretty magical. When I first began falling in love with the medium and learned more and more about film, not only how to properly shoot it, but the numerous ways it could be manipulated, a whole other world opened up to me. I remember saying to a co-worker, a mentor at the time, “The more I learn about photography, the less I know.”
Film isn’t a thing to be feared, or rejected, or to be made complicated. If anything can be made complicated it is all this talk of pixels, sensors, scans, negatives, lenses, cameras, and the list goes on. Film has graduated from the photography community. Digital capture is its new student. Just because film has learned all it needs to know, does not mean that it has nothing to teach us. It has so much more to say, especially now that there is a new kid in school to compare it to. Digital will never disappear, but neither will film. Instead of rejecting one or the other, dig out Dad’s old film camera, buy a roll and give it a spin. You may be surprised by what develops.
References
Cambridge in Colour. (2012). Cambridge in Colour. Retrieved from http://www.cambridgeincolour.com/tutorials/digital-camera-sensor-sizes.htm
Eftaiha, D. (2010, April 26). Film vs. Digital Sensor [Web log post]. Retrieved from http://www.thedphoto.com/gear-equipment/film-vs-digital-sensor/
Hasselblad. (2012). Hasselblad H-System Camera Specs. Retrieved from http://www.hasselblad.com/products/h-system/h46-31.aspx
Perkins, M. (2011, February). Caught on Film. Rangefinder. 114-120.
Rockwell, K. (2008). Why We Love Film [Web log post]. Retrieved from http://www.kenrockwell.com/tech/why-we-love-film.htm
Templeton, B. (2010). Pixels [Web log post]. Retrieved from http://pic.templetons.com/brad/photo/pixels.html
The Impossible Project (2012). Retrieved from http://www.the-impossible- project.com/about/
Villa, J. (2010, January 26). Loving Film in Today’s Digital World [Web log post]. Retrieved from http://josevillablog.com/2010/01/loving-film-in-todays-digital-world/
In today’s debate, it is not so much about instant gratification, but about something a bit deeper. Depending on who you may talk to it may be a quality issue. It may be a color issue. It may be an issue with sharpness. It may even just be a debate of ambiance or nostalgia, but whatever the issue is, it is debatable, and in a world where Kodak stopped producing one of its most famous film products, kodachrome slide film and their New York factory being leveled to the ground, there is a fear that film is indeed dead.
But, and it is a big but, film may be making somewhat of a comeback. Is it true what they say, what’s old is new again? In New York, a group of ex-Polaroid factory workers are at work, even now, on new instant film for all those Polaroid film enthusiasts that were stunned when Polaroid announced that they would stop producing all instant film altogether, leaving some 300,000,000 Polaroid film cameras, and their owners, with no film to shoot becoming paperweights overnight. (The Impossible Project, 2010) In the mean time, a successful California based fine art wedding photographer-Jose Villa-is busy creating breathtaking sun-drenched, pastel engagement portraits and wedding albums using the tools of photography that have been around for years, a Mamiya and a Holga camera and Fuji 120 and 220 film. His success, and the success of others who are following suit, bring up the question again, ten years after the digital bug began biting, is film dead? I have to argue, it is not.
Please understand that just because film isn’t dead, that does not mean that the world over should ditch their digital cameras and shoot film alone. In the digital age that would not only be a bad idea, but a very impractical one. The realization that digital has made photography more accessible to the amateur (by amateur I mean simply those people who do not make their living as a photographer) is noted and is appreciated. There is huge value in giving a mother an inexpensive digital point and shoot camera that allows her to preview pictures that she takes of her children instantly so that if the photo did not turn out, instead of missing the moment and leaving it to chance, she can-in a matter of seconds-re-take the picture making necessary corrections. Instead the idea is to say that film is here to stay and therefore let us explore the reasons why, its practical usage, and also to demonstrate how film can be incorporated into the digital world without slowing down the fast pace we have grown accustomed to.
If one must begin at any place why not examine film itself? A brief overview of film is that to the general public there was one size and it was called 35mm. Sold in rolls in small canisters, it was available with 24 or 36 photos-or frames-per roll. This was standard for all 35mm cameras and was the most commonly used. The professionals had other alternatives depending on their subject matter and the focus of their profession. More simply put, landscape photographers would use larger film formats, negatives that ranged in size from a 4x5 inch frame to an 8x10 inch frame. Portrait and wedding photographers didn’t need to go so big, so their film choice was usually medium format film, which was probably equal to two to three times the size of 35mm, thus giving higher quality and also the possibility for larger reprint sizes. All this is to say that the most current high-end digital camera models being sold today boast about having a full-framed sensor, meaning a sensor that is as big as a 35mm negative (Cambridge in Colour, 2012), and cost in the neighborhood of $6,000. There are digital cameras that have larger sensors than that of a 35mm negative available, and by larger I mean a 50 percent increase in size, that will cost about $30,000. (Hasselblad, 2012) That larger sensor still hasn’t matched the medium format film size, which is double that of a 35mm negative frame. There are some particulars here about pixels and fracturing and the sort of computer babble a lot of these kind of debates get into, but the long and short of it is this: when a photo is taken on 35mm film, when scanned with a film scanner at a good photo lab, it produces a 25 megapixel photo. (Rockwell, 2008, para 5) The $6,000 camera that was mentioned before takes pictures up to 16 megapixels, 9 pixels short of 25.
Now, the point isn’t to bore you with technical know-how, but one more point must be made when talking about film exclusively. Film records higher quality of color, color gradient, and highlight and lowlight details. This gets a little complicated, but I found it best explained by Diana Eftaiha, “…the digital image is captured on a grid of light sensitive pixels, and each of these pixels produces an image result depending on the amount of light hitting it. Where in film, light-sensitive elements are randomly distributed along the film emulsion, overlapping to create a sense of continuous color tone gradation. Pixels on the other hand are not overlapping, so when an image is enlarged beyond a significant extent, these pixels become more and more visible. Furthermore, pixels can only represent certain color values as solid blocks. This means that one pixel can only represent one color value even though the light and color information falling on it from the original scene can contain multiple values. And this is why digital photography is known to produce a non-continuous, incomplete gradation of color tones, an area in which film photography is still ahead of the whole new digital trend.” ( Eftaiha, 2010, para 6).
Now that we have explored film and explained its differences from digital capture, as well as touched on the actual cameras a bit as well, lets look at this from another point of view, maybe a bit more economic. What I have found, in our digital world, is that more time is spent staring into a glowing screen than time spent staring into another person’s eyes. That is just a personal statement from me. A lot of photographers became photographers in order to connect with people either with their photos or through them. A landscape photographer may not photograph people, but they enjoy showing their photos to them. They enjoy the interaction they have through their art and watching it cause a reaction in his or her audience. A portrait photographer is all about the subject, and capturing the essence of that person. A wedding photographer is all about the event, the people, the cake, the flowers, the details, the dress, the groom, the bride, the kiss; on and on it is all about recording the day and archiving it forever. Today’s photographer has been sucked into the editing process, he or she has been slowly drugged, little by little over the years until suddenly they are spending three or four hours with their client and 24 hours in post production after the shoot ends. When Florida wedding photographer Ricci Valladares was asked by Rangefinder Magazine about his switch back to photographing weddings with film he stated his biggest change had been his workflow. “No longer does he spend several hours after each wedding uploading, backing up, editing and doing postproduction on his images. Instead, he packages his film and ships it off to the lab. Two weeks later he receives a DVD of high-resolution scans and a collection of proof prints.” (Perkins, 2011, pg.116 ) Signed, sealed, delivered. That equates to more time spent with clients and doing what you love, taking pictures; and less time spent on a computer eating up the time you could spend shooting something more.
Like stated at the beginning of this paper, it is understood that the majority of photographers will shoot digitally. It is understood that many parents, vacationers, and enthusiasts alike love the convenience and cost benefit of digital. Digital cameras are more affordable than the old film ones were in their day. One can see the image as soon as it is taken and know if it is a good one or not. Prints cost literally pennies at your nearest one hour photo lab, nineteen cents last time I checked at Wal-mart (cheaper if you have it delivered straight to your home). At the end of the day, one can peruse the pictures taken at the park, the beach, the fair, graduation, etc. and simply delete the ones that were bad! No more paying for wasted shots! No more fumbling with film cameras and trying to figure out how they work! This will be the argument for the majority of the public. Even when asked, professionals will admit to their digital love affair, “Can they [pro photographers] get a better shot with 120 chrome [film] than a 20MP DSLR [digital camera]? Probably, but only by a modest amount. But the DSLR is just so much easier to work with, and so much more flexible that when the final goal is digital (as it almost always is today) the choice for these photographers is not very hard.” (Templeton, 2010). Yes, even for the professionals it is cheaper, it is quicker-depending on how fast one is on the computer, and it is what clients are demanding.
In our digital world, though, film can still be incorporated, rather seamlessly, into the fast-paced instant gratification culture. Both professional and retail store photo labs offer scanning of 35mm film which they turn and put onto a CD. Once home, all one needs to do is put it into a CD rom drive and wait for the prompts in order to save it to the computer or order more prints. For the professional this can all be streamlined relatively easy and worked into the regular flow of post production. Even so, there still exists a certain thrill of seeing a photograph in print. At the start of the digital revolution, many clients simply asked for a CD of all the images and thus the job was done. Little by little, much like how digital duped photographers everywhere into hours spent editing, professionals are turning the tables by offering prints, proofs, and albums that turn pixels back into prints and again gives clients something to hold on to and the ability to establish an emotional connection, much like the former generation could do with their parents’ old wedding photos.
Allow one final emotional argument to be made that will lean towards the fantastic and the aesthetics that make up the world we live in. Film looks beautiful. I myself shoot weddings, and when I post four or five shots on my photo blog, I am always asked about the film shots I post. The client always asks what I did to the photo taken with film. My answer is always, “Nothing.” It is exactly what the client looked like. That is exactly what the scene looked like. Film has a quality that one just can’t put their finger on. It has an ambiance that can not be described with words. Jose Villa, the California wedding photographer I mention in the beginning blogged this on his website, “Film has such a classic timeless feel I just don’t get with digital. When I have tried shooting digitally, I find I spend all my time working to make it look like film. Think about how bizarre that is, when you could just shoot film to start with.” (Villa, 2010, para 2) Valladares, the Florida wedding photographer said, “many photographers have observed that digital lacks some intangible quality-some call it warmth, some call it a ‘film feel’” (Perkins, 2011, pg 114).
Many photographers are film buffs. They grew up learning the craft on film. Learning, failing, and learning from that. Digital offers up a much faster learning curve, seeing your faults instantaneously. That does not necessarily make a better photographer. It also does not necessarily make a better photo. Shooting film also represents a time when everyone was not in such a hurry. One could take a photograph and keep walking, and not check the back of the camera to worry if it came out. Film offered, and still does, a lot of latitude when it came to the light it absorbed onto its face. Overexposed photos could be darkened, underexposed could be lightened. Sometimes the camera had a light leak which could offer up some surprising ghostly results that in the digital world no longer exists. Within the analog community, they have grown fond of film’s little imperfections that could often flare a photo red or yellow. An improperly loaded roll of film would offer double or triple exposed frames that were unexpected but can actually be looked at as little forms of found art. A sky overlapping one’s aunt overlapping the hotel while on vacation, telling an entire story in one frame rather than an entire roll of film. It is pretty magical. When I first began falling in love with the medium and learned more and more about film, not only how to properly shoot it, but the numerous ways it could be manipulated, a whole other world opened up to me. I remember saying to a co-worker, a mentor at the time, “The more I learn about photography, the less I know.”
Film isn’t a thing to be feared, or rejected, or to be made complicated. If anything can be made complicated it is all this talk of pixels, sensors, scans, negatives, lenses, cameras, and the list goes on. Film has graduated from the photography community. Digital capture is its new student. Just because film has learned all it needs to know, does not mean that it has nothing to teach us. It has so much more to say, especially now that there is a new kid in school to compare it to. Digital will never disappear, but neither will film. Instead of rejecting one or the other, dig out Dad’s old film camera, buy a roll and give it a spin. You may be surprised by what develops.
References
Cambridge in Colour. (2012). Cambridge in Colour. Retrieved from http://www.cambridgeincolour.com/tutorials/digital-camera-sensor-sizes.htm
Eftaiha, D. (2010, April 26). Film vs. Digital Sensor [Web log post]. Retrieved from http://www.thedphoto.com/gear-equipment/film-vs-digital-sensor/
Hasselblad. (2012). Hasselblad H-System Camera Specs. Retrieved from http://www.hasselblad.com/products/h-system/h46-31.aspx
Perkins, M. (2011, February). Caught on Film. Rangefinder. 114-120.
Rockwell, K. (2008). Why We Love Film [Web log post]. Retrieved from http://www.kenrockwell.com/tech/why-we-love-film.htm
Templeton, B. (2010). Pixels [Web log post]. Retrieved from http://pic.templetons.com/brad/photo/pixels.html
The Impossible Project (2012). Retrieved from http://www.the-impossible- project.com/about/
Villa, J. (2010, January 26). Loving Film in Today’s Digital World [Web log post]. Retrieved from http://josevillablog.com/2010/01/loving-film-in-todays-digital-world/
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Oh Hot Jam...
My son. He loves music. He actually has a pretty good ear for it too. I'll admit, his music is filtered through me and Ash who listen to what we like, and from there he usually chooses his favorite songs from the ones we play. Like, his ultimate favs in my car are Weezer and Ludo, while his favs when he's in Ashley's car are Lady Gaga and Beyonce's "Put A Ring On It" which he's also biased to due to the song's cameo in the Chipmunks Squeakwal. Often we have to repeat things to Ewan, three even four times, just to make sure he gets it. Things like: Which side of the car do you always get in on? Which side? Which. Side. WHICH SIDE? to which it eventually dawns on him that maybe he's at the wrong side of the car and needs to walk around to the other side to get in it. If only life were a Broadway play, or maybe an opera, because then things that are said are said to music, that's the only time he seems to listen, or to hear. He can sing songs back to you...easy, he remembers artists, song titles, lyrics, and often asks if he has the lyrics correct or not-or often what the lyrics mean if it's a word he's not familiar with. Sometimes he may get the words wrong even, and if asked I'll correct him, but in this particular case, I'll let him go on singing the wrong words. I don't think it's such a great idea to send my kid to kindergarten with the risk of him telling anyone at school, "Oh hot damn!..." So, sing the wrong words all you want on this song, and I'll rest easy knowing that neither the FCC nor the principal will be knocking on our door.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Fall Gallery Night
As the rain steadily fell, sometimes heavy, sometimes a light drizzle, but consistently fell without a break in the day-or during the weekend even-we hopped in the car and drove towards Camp Bowie Boulevard to visit a friend and make ourselves a part of the local art scene. Although my walls really cannot hold pieces that are sold in the galleries we visited, the talent-not to mention the free wine and hor'doevres-still draw my attention. It seems at times that there's too much talent and not enough venues. Too much talent and not enough people to appreciate. We all want to be rock stars, and movie gods; Angelinas and Warhols; celebrity pop rock actor diva missionaries, but not many of us are. Honestly, though, some of us deserve it. Some of the artwork on display last night shouldn't be shown in a small local salon down the road, but hung in an over sized room and a small plaque mounted next to it reading: Don't Slow Down Number IV mixed media on wood, 2009.
Gallery night happens in Fort Worth twice a year. First in the spring, another in the fall. Local museums such as the Amon Carter, the Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth, join with local galleries like Art On The Boulevard and Rebecca Low, as well as a good handful of businesses, a local salon or a modern furniture shop, all open their doors to starving artists who itch to find a place to show their work. And for one night, you get in your car and cruise the art district stopping and perusing these shops at your leisure, bumping into friends or acquaintances, making new ones, connecting with artists where one can ask direct questions about inspirations and processes. Or not. Just stand and admire, stick a stick into a block of cheese and move on. The evening is your own and the whole city is an art gallery.
Outside the Salon on West 7th the rain didn't stop the party. Mic and amp set up on the sidewalk a man sang Tom Petty with a stand up bass and guitar accompaniment. Yuppies huddled together underneath a white canopy in the parking lot and sipped their wine and danced on what floor space was available. While this isn't my scene, who can't appreciate people that get out of their apartments and enjoy life a little? We snaked our way through the thin crowd and made our way toward the car.
Driving from door to door while the rain soaked the ground, the street, the steel of the buildings, and the concrete of the street-the whole world mirrored on the road we drove on-I can't help but get inspired with my own art. It's standing inside these art galleries and looking at the work of others that both humbles and challenges me to think differently, and to make those concepts a reality. I'm not Warhol, nor am I even a starving local hanging artwork up at Salon 717, but standing around photographing the world that surrounds me and seeing my shots saved in a little icon of a manila folder on my computer screen really won't get me anywhere either. Hey, I'm not asking for world celebrity. I'm not looking to be star. But, if a couple nights a year I can see my work hanging fancy in a gallery, standing around dressed and vest, wine in hand, work on the wall, at least I can say it was fun.
Gallery night happens in Fort Worth twice a year. First in the spring, another in the fall. Local museums such as the Amon Carter, the Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth, join with local galleries like Art On The Boulevard and Rebecca Low, as well as a good handful of businesses, a local salon or a modern furniture shop, all open their doors to starving artists who itch to find a place to show their work. And for one night, you get in your car and cruise the art district stopping and perusing these shops at your leisure, bumping into friends or acquaintances, making new ones, connecting with artists where one can ask direct questions about inspirations and processes. Or not. Just stand and admire, stick a stick into a block of cheese and move on. The evening is your own and the whole city is an art gallery.
Outside the Salon on West 7th the rain didn't stop the party. Mic and amp set up on the sidewalk a man sang Tom Petty with a stand up bass and guitar accompaniment. Yuppies huddled together underneath a white canopy in the parking lot and sipped their wine and danced on what floor space was available. While this isn't my scene, who can't appreciate people that get out of their apartments and enjoy life a little? We snaked our way through the thin crowd and made our way toward the car.
Driving from door to door while the rain soaked the ground, the street, the steel of the buildings, and the concrete of the street-the whole world mirrored on the road we drove on-I can't help but get inspired with my own art. It's standing inside these art galleries and looking at the work of others that both humbles and challenges me to think differently, and to make those concepts a reality. I'm not Warhol, nor am I even a starving local hanging artwork up at Salon 717, but standing around photographing the world that surrounds me and seeing my shots saved in a little icon of a manila folder on my computer screen really won't get me anywhere either. Hey, I'm not asking for world celebrity. I'm not looking to be star. But, if a couple nights a year I can see my work hanging fancy in a gallery, standing around dressed and vest, wine in hand, work on the wall, at least I can say it was fun.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
the Renaissance
About 45 miles before you reach Houston on I-45 rests the little town of Conroe, Texas. About 30 miles from there headed East lies Plantersville and the stomping grounds of the annual Renaissance Festival that descends on the little town every fall. When my fiancé' had told me about the festival I had pictured in my mind a football field of people: tents, little booths set up under canvassed canopies, maybe an area roped off for staged sword fights done with big wooden shafts and full body armor.
Instead what I arrived at was an entire Renaissance village. Stretched out over 100 acres of land were small castles, an arena for jousting, an amphitheater, several shops and stores all un-air-conditioned and filled with people that greeted you with either "How may I serve you my Lord?" or "...my Lady?" depending. Walking up to the entrance gave one just a small glimpse of what one was in for. A young lady clad in skimpy black clothes-a short skirt, a sort of halter top, striped socks, and a violin-stood outside the entrance. Awaiting what I don't know, but I asked her kindly for her picture and she agreed. Oh, yeah-she had black wings as well that curled up towards her ears. The photograph evokes wonder and amusement. Then a sort of warlock troll walked up, robed and staff in hand. A sign out front of the entrance stated "...merrymaking/firearms" and I wondered if flint had been discovered yet or not? I wondered if the word firearm had even been coined yet. It was this kind of thinking that inspired people to attend these things in full costume. People from all around, that didn't work the festival or even got paid for showing up, were showing up fully costumed and paying to walk around in one of the very few places left that you could dress like a wench and not be judged for it. A suspension of belief, and passport through time. Once you walked underneath the archway and gave the peasant your ticket, forget your cell phone, forget your electric bill and your car. Forget even about converse shoes and polo shirts. Here the leather boot laces wrapped up your calve, a simple loin cloth would be excepted at the hippest club. Here the boustie' wasn't provocative but uniform, round plump ladies were encouraged to show off what they had, today we have the phrase 'plus size' to describe an attractive voluptuous woman, but once we walked through the entrance they were supermodels. Another sign should of been hanging on the other side of the entrance quite literally stating: "welcome to the renaissance festival and the end of civilization as you know it."
A good bit of people were sort of dressed up, meaning a family let their four year old son dress as a pirate and their eight year old daughter don a pair of butterfly wings bought at a costume shop so she could pass as a fairy. Good clean fun. A few adults had wings as well, or little accessories that stated, "I'm going to have fun with this, but I still have to show my face at the office come Monday..." But over half, at least, were immersed in their kingdom. Winches, warlocks, friar tuck like monks, king Arthur and Tim from Monty Python's The Holy Grail, knights and peasants sharing supreme nachos, court jesters, gypsies, Vikings, pirates (even captain Jack Sparrow himself), Robin Hood, kings and queens, magicians, and all sorts of mythical beings; trolls, fairies (good and bad), elves, gnomes, hobbits, demons, dragons, satyrs (with hooves), He-Man, Skelatore, and even some from our own time and place: trekkies, pimps, a cross-gendered antlered amazon, Goths, furries, and even two playboy bunnies.
Of course I trained my camera on as many as possible. When I asked for a photograph most just simply struck a pose and held it for me. They either flexed or growled or hissed or spread their wings or put their hands together in front of their chest as if in prayer. Great stuff, really. One particular guy, dressed up like what looked to be an oversized kid referred to my camera as a "Click box!" and had me spin the propeller on his hat before I took his photograph. Another young woman dressed as Elizabeth the first or second or whatever was making her majestic way to somewhere when I stopped her. She stood, hit a pose-her faint mustache showing that she was just too into her time period-and after the shutter clicked she matter of factly said, "The fairies in that box must paint very fast!" and then turned and walked hurriedly off without missing a beat. My response was reactionary and I laughed, not so much at her, but at her commitment to character. Another moment of suspended reality occurred during a conversation with a jeweler. I stood admiring his rings and he began explaining that most of his rings were made out of tungsten, one of the strongest metals there are. "It can only be scratched by another piece of tungsten or a diamond. You could run over it with a Mac truck," and he added under his breath, "whatever that is."
We walked around for hours just soaking in the atmosphere, people watching, popping in and out of stores where you could find anything from mythical puppets and thick leather hats with beautiful feather plumes sticking out of the side of them to an actual crystal mine where one could dig through piles of dirt and find your very own rock crystal. Amidst mobile carts of pickle salesmen who kept exclaiming for us to taste his pickle and a woman who kept urging us to look at her chest we grew hungry and decided to find something to eat.
I'd like to say lunch was an adventure in itself but it turns out that medieval peoples much more prefer the food of modern times. There was no whole roasted swine dangling by it's heels over a huge bon fire, and no one drank water from a nearby river bed. In it's place were fajita tacos, nacho supreme, turkey legs, funnel cakes, coke, dr. pepper, margaritas and strawberry pina coladas. Where's a good ol' pint of Guinness when you need it? I know Guinness has been around since medieval times...it just tastes that way.
The day soon wore on and the afternoon and evening came. I was continually amazed at the people we kept passing. Fairies and priests and another pair of queen elizabeths (twin sisters at that) who were fighting about where one of their friends had disappeared to. A smoking dragon. A guy all dressed in leather, spikes, and skulls; I guess he was simply a motorcyclist but he fit in perfectly. A gay satyr ("It's a cursing well damnit!"). A hundred fairies. And quite a few people that looked just like me: dressed in modern clothes and a huge camera hanging around their neck just waiting for the next opportunity to try and capture a little bit of the Renaissance times and bring it back home to the year 2000.
Instead what I arrived at was an entire Renaissance village. Stretched out over 100 acres of land were small castles, an arena for jousting, an amphitheater, several shops and stores all un-air-conditioned and filled with people that greeted you with either "How may I serve you my Lord?" or "...my Lady?" depending. Walking up to the entrance gave one just a small glimpse of what one was in for. A young lady clad in skimpy black clothes-a short skirt, a sort of halter top, striped socks, and a violin-stood outside the entrance. Awaiting what I don't know, but I asked her kindly for her picture and she agreed. Oh, yeah-she had black wings as well that curled up towards her ears. The photograph evokes wonder and amusement. Then a sort of warlock troll walked up, robed and staff in hand. A sign out front of the entrance stated "...merrymaking/firearms" and I wondered if flint had been discovered yet or not? I wondered if the word firearm had even been coined yet. It was this kind of thinking that inspired people to attend these things in full costume. People from all around, that didn't work the festival or even got paid for showing up, were showing up fully costumed and paying to walk around in one of the very few places left that you could dress like a wench and not be judged for it. A suspension of belief, and passport through time. Once you walked underneath the archway and gave the peasant your ticket, forget your cell phone, forget your electric bill and your car. Forget even about converse shoes and polo shirts. Here the leather boot laces wrapped up your calve, a simple loin cloth would be excepted at the hippest club. Here the boustie' wasn't provocative but uniform, round plump ladies were encouraged to show off what they had, today we have the phrase 'plus size' to describe an attractive voluptuous woman, but once we walked through the entrance they were supermodels. Another sign should of been hanging on the other side of the entrance quite literally stating: "welcome to the renaissance festival and the end of civilization as you know it."
A good bit of people were sort of dressed up, meaning a family let their four year old son dress as a pirate and their eight year old daughter don a pair of butterfly wings bought at a costume shop so she could pass as a fairy. Good clean fun. A few adults had wings as well, or little accessories that stated, "I'm going to have fun with this, but I still have to show my face at the office come Monday..." But over half, at least, were immersed in their kingdom. Winches, warlocks, friar tuck like monks, king Arthur and Tim from Monty Python's The Holy Grail, knights and peasants sharing supreme nachos, court jesters, gypsies, Vikings, pirates (even captain Jack Sparrow himself), Robin Hood, kings and queens, magicians, and all sorts of mythical beings; trolls, fairies (good and bad), elves, gnomes, hobbits, demons, dragons, satyrs (with hooves), He-Man, Skelatore, and even some from our own time and place: trekkies, pimps, a cross-gendered antlered amazon, Goths, furries, and even two playboy bunnies.
Of course I trained my camera on as many as possible. When I asked for a photograph most just simply struck a pose and held it for me. They either flexed or growled or hissed or spread their wings or put their hands together in front of their chest as if in prayer. Great stuff, really. One particular guy, dressed up like what looked to be an oversized kid referred to my camera as a "Click box!" and had me spin the propeller on his hat before I took his photograph. Another young woman dressed as Elizabeth the first or second or whatever was making her majestic way to somewhere when I stopped her. She stood, hit a pose-her faint mustache showing that she was just too into her time period-and after the shutter clicked she matter of factly said, "The fairies in that box must paint very fast!" and then turned and walked hurriedly off without missing a beat. My response was reactionary and I laughed, not so much at her, but at her commitment to character. Another moment of suspended reality occurred during a conversation with a jeweler. I stood admiring his rings and he began explaining that most of his rings were made out of tungsten, one of the strongest metals there are. "It can only be scratched by another piece of tungsten or a diamond. You could run over it with a Mac truck," and he added under his breath, "whatever that is."
We walked around for hours just soaking in the atmosphere, people watching, popping in and out of stores where you could find anything from mythical puppets and thick leather hats with beautiful feather plumes sticking out of the side of them to an actual crystal mine where one could dig through piles of dirt and find your very own rock crystal. Amidst mobile carts of pickle salesmen who kept exclaiming for us to taste his pickle and a woman who kept urging us to look at her chest we grew hungry and decided to find something to eat.
I'd like to say lunch was an adventure in itself but it turns out that medieval peoples much more prefer the food of modern times. There was no whole roasted swine dangling by it's heels over a huge bon fire, and no one drank water from a nearby river bed. In it's place were fajita tacos, nacho supreme, turkey legs, funnel cakes, coke, dr. pepper, margaritas and strawberry pina coladas. Where's a good ol' pint of Guinness when you need it? I know Guinness has been around since medieval times...it just tastes that way.
The day soon wore on and the afternoon and evening came. I was continually amazed at the people we kept passing. Fairies and priests and another pair of queen elizabeths (twin sisters at that) who were fighting about where one of their friends had disappeared to. A smoking dragon. A guy all dressed in leather, spikes, and skulls; I guess he was simply a motorcyclist but he fit in perfectly. A gay satyr ("It's a cursing well damnit!"). A hundred fairies. And quite a few people that looked just like me: dressed in modern clothes and a huge camera hanging around their neck just waiting for the next opportunity to try and capture a little bit of the Renaissance times and bring it back home to the year 2000.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
New York
After we checked our bags it began to snow outside. Little tiny snowflakes falling down diagonally landing on the sidewalks and streets of Manhattan. We sat inside Ben ash, a great place to eat where a burger costs fifteen dollars but easily will feed you and your kids, and your kids' kids. I mean, these things were huge.
We stayed at the Wellington, an aged hotel that seemed to have some stories to tell. We were a brisk walk from Times Square and two blocks from Central Park, but far enough from the park to escape the smell of the horse drawn carriages. Upon arrival I heard the tell tale honking of taxi cabs and city buses. Me and my wife smiled at each other thinking, "...we're in New York." Like a line drawn by the sound of car horns, buses, and the low hum of city noise, and tourist chattering, and foot steps, you knew that you've finally arrived.
It's easy to put New York in a box. You see it in movies. You see it on t.v. You see these landmark things that make New York what it is. This iconic city built on dreams. The streets are dirty but the buildings are gold on the inside. I grew up in the county and was far removed from any big city, being so, New York simply took on this snow globe image of the statue of liberty, the empire state building, the Brooklyn bridge, skyscrapers. Shake it around, put it on the mantel-ain't it cool? Well, yes, it is cool. It's very cool. I mean, we all see pictures of Times Square all the time. Everyone watches America's famous ball drop on t.v. on New Year's Eve. We all celebrate the moment. We kiss. We throw confetti and toast our champagne. We celebrate New Year's Eve with Times Square every year. Times Square is at every party, every year. It always shows up. It's never late. In fact, for central time, Times Square shows up an hour early! To stand atop the empire state building and look out at the city and see Manhattan spread out below you like a pop up book, a flood of memories came to me of standing in stores like Target and seeing this very scene but on hand bags, journal covers, and screen printed t-shirts. Here it was in person, and in person it is so much cooler than that t-shirt. I wasn't quite sure how visiting the city would affect me. I mean, would I simply shrug my shoulders and say, "Wow, it's just a big city." Or would I come away leaving a piece of me in New York with plans already made to go back there and get it.
My first view of the city was from the tiny oval shaped window of the plane. We flew into Newark airport in New Jersey and as the plane descended I looked to my right and saw dim in the distance this huge city. Tall buildings stretching high below us. The city was surrounded by a thin cloud and the distance made it dream like, almost a mirage. Which is what the city has been for me all my life. But to walk the streets of Times Square and see it's blinking lights and high rise advertisements. To ride the elevator up eighty or some odd stories and step off into a frigid wind and a clear cold night and see a million lights from a thousand buildings from hundreds of street lamps glimmering back at you, when you've only seen them in moving pictures and photographs...what can I say? It's like stumbling into Santa Clause in your living room while your parents are asleep.
We stayed at the Wellington, an aged hotel that seemed to have some stories to tell. We were a brisk walk from Times Square and two blocks from Central Park, but far enough from the park to escape the smell of the horse drawn carriages. Upon arrival I heard the tell tale honking of taxi cabs and city buses. Me and my wife smiled at each other thinking, "...we're in New York." Like a line drawn by the sound of car horns, buses, and the low hum of city noise, and tourist chattering, and foot steps, you knew that you've finally arrived.
It's easy to put New York in a box. You see it in movies. You see it on t.v. You see these landmark things that make New York what it is. This iconic city built on dreams. The streets are dirty but the buildings are gold on the inside. I grew up in the county and was far removed from any big city, being so, New York simply took on this snow globe image of the statue of liberty, the empire state building, the Brooklyn bridge, skyscrapers. Shake it around, put it on the mantel-ain't it cool? Well, yes, it is cool. It's very cool. I mean, we all see pictures of Times Square all the time. Everyone watches America's famous ball drop on t.v. on New Year's Eve. We all celebrate the moment. We kiss. We throw confetti and toast our champagne. We celebrate New Year's Eve with Times Square every year. Times Square is at every party, every year. It always shows up. It's never late. In fact, for central time, Times Square shows up an hour early! To stand atop the empire state building and look out at the city and see Manhattan spread out below you like a pop up book, a flood of memories came to me of standing in stores like Target and seeing this very scene but on hand bags, journal covers, and screen printed t-shirts. Here it was in person, and in person it is so much cooler than that t-shirt. I wasn't quite sure how visiting the city would affect me. I mean, would I simply shrug my shoulders and say, "Wow, it's just a big city." Or would I come away leaving a piece of me in New York with plans already made to go back there and get it.
My first view of the city was from the tiny oval shaped window of the plane. We flew into Newark airport in New Jersey and as the plane descended I looked to my right and saw dim in the distance this huge city. Tall buildings stretching high below us. The city was surrounded by a thin cloud and the distance made it dream like, almost a mirage. Which is what the city has been for me all my life. But to walk the streets of Times Square and see it's blinking lights and high rise advertisements. To ride the elevator up eighty or some odd stories and step off into a frigid wind and a clear cold night and see a million lights from a thousand buildings from hundreds of street lamps glimmering back at you, when you've only seen them in moving pictures and photographs...what can I say? It's like stumbling into Santa Clause in your living room while your parents are asleep.
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