Outside, With Vincent

...It feels like it's been years. I've finally made a new photo! I'm really excited about it, I'm excited to be "working" again. I found a new little skeleton friend; his name seems to be Vincent. This is what we did today:

Two photographs combined. I think it looks like Vincent is laughing his ass off. 

My friend Alice inspired me to do this when she showed me another photographer's photo using a mirror in a similar way. I don't have a story to go along with this one because it wasn't really planned at all. I just grabbed a big-ish mirror of mine, a few props (large black sheet, my favorite hat), and Vincent and headed out into my yard.

This is definitely an idea I want to explore some more. It was actually a little difficult figuring out where to stand to get the angle I wanted for the mirror reflection. Having my remote shutter release really helped out with that; it would have been incredibly frustrating to have to use the self-timer.

I like the way it turned out and it was fun to spend an afternoon making this after a hard shift at "real" work. So thanks to Alice for the motivational kick~

52 Weeks III : June 10th - June 16th

I almost failed this week -- I kind of picked a bad time to start my 52 Weeks Project. For the past two weeks, I've been concentrating most heavily on my summer trip back up to New Jersey (and all the stress of school work I need to do while I'm up there), and having to get my house in order for that. So by the end of today, after running errands and cleaning for nine and a half hours, I remembered that I hadn't taken a self portrait this week. I actually had a pretty intense argument with myself about whether or not to take one, while doing the dishes. Eventually, I just sighed out loud because I didn't want to mess up this soon into the project. So here it is, working title: My Feet are Dead and I Need Coffee.

Normally, I would have dressed up, made sure Loki and Sól were in another room, taken the time to move shoes and iPads out of the frame, make everything perfect. But I decided to be super honest with this one. These are the clothes I've been working in all day, this is how the table looked at that moment. As always, the pets were following my every move around the house. In some ways, this might be the truest self portrait I've ever taken because, although it's not candid, it shows a totally "normal" moment in my private. Moments that few people have ever seen. This is definitely not the version of myself that is seen publicly very often. 

52 Weeks II : June 3rd - June 9th

I got myself a new camera toy...and I'm really excited about it! It's a remote shutter release, which allows me to take a photograph while I'm not at the camera, at any time that I want to. I've been doing self portraits since I was 17 and all those years, I've been using the self-timer on my camera, running back and forth between camera and scene in 10-20 seconds, and running back to press the shutter again. So I've gotten pretty good at getting into various positions in under 10 seconds, but it can be pretty exhausting. I had been meaning to get a remote shutter release for years and I finally stopped procrastinating. I'm so glad I did! I've had it for less than a day and I'm already obsessed. I doubt I'll ever go back to the self-timer again.

So I took my second self portrait in my 52 Weeks Project this evening, and got to try out my new shutter release.

And I didn't do a black and white again!

This is Untitled #2. I'm really trying to get better at lighting and that's why I decided to wait until it got dark out to do this. I ended up using a closet light (that you can see reflected in the window), my porch light, the street light at the end of my driveway, and a sparkler. I have a hard time getting the focus perfect when it's so dark (even with the closet light, I could hardly see anything inside), so I'm not very happy with that. But otherwise, it was so great using the remote shutter release. I'm not sure I would have been able to take this same portrait with the self-timer. Mine only goes up to 20 seconds, and getting outside, up on the railing, with the sparkler going would be extremely difficult in that amount of time. So a big, big Yay! for new camera toys!

52 Weeks I : May 27th - June 2nd

The 52 Week Self Portrait Project is something I've seen all over the web, from blogs to DeviantART to Flickr, and more. A simple Google search of "52 weeks self portraits" shows all kinds of results from amateur to professional photographers. Some have just started out and others have been doing it for years. The entire idea of the project - take one self portrait every week for a year - has really been inspiring me to practice both photography and posing more. Additionally, this project inspires me to come up with ideas that are simpler in nature, that aren't attached to stories I write out, requiring elaborate edits that stitch together several photographs to make one scene. I want these self portraits (which will be designated specifically as falling into the 52 Week category) to show minimal editing, and never anything that would qualify as photo-manipulation, unlike most of the work I've been doing for the past two years. I want all of the "effects" for these self portraits to be created in real life before the shutter is ever pressed.

Other goals I have for myself are to do more work in color rather than black and white, and to be braver with lighting as well as setting. Any time I'm out driving, I constantly look for areas I think would be great scenery for my photographs, but I hardly ever go back to use them. I want that to stop! If I see a place I think is perfect for an idea, I want to have the guts to do it, whether there are people around or not. A lot of the time, I allow myself to miss out on a great scene because it's public; I don't want to waste opportunities anymore. So, having said all that, here is the first of my 52 Week Self Portrait Project:

{It's black and white, I know.}

Untitled #1, taken in my bedroom sitting against the wall using natural light from a window. I dodged the background to downplay the texture of the wall, burned the molding around the floor to make it darker, and burned parts in the cloak to minimize the appearance of lint and cat hair -- all things that I would have done had this been film. Originally, I really wanted it to be a color shot because I painted my entire face red; however, I just couldn't get the tones looking the way I wanted. I have a lot of practice to do with color indoors. The rest of the editing was desaturating the colors, tweaking with the levels, curves, and contrast, and a slight gaussian blur around the cloak. Normally, I would have wanted to use a texture or part of another photo, so this image looks really empty to me. It might take me some time getting used to not working within my normal habits.

I'm excited to start this new project and hopefully improve my skill. The hardest part is going to be sticking to the time frame, so wish me some luck and perseverance. Thank you for viewing ♥~

The Water Bride

Self portrait from today with a short story titled "The Water Bride" pending! I'm working on something that is sort of historical fiction set in the East Indies. It's starting to run a little away from me so I wanted to take a break and revisit it. I still wanted to share the photo I made today to go along with it. Taken in my living room, and I used a texture from my friend Sa Scha -- his textures are unbelievable and his is so generous about letting other artists use them. Danke!~

The Hands' Descendent

Left behind.

Picked up.

Observed.

Prayed over.

Questioned.

Institutionalized.

Visited.

Entertained.

Fed meals.

Enjoyed company.

Spread disease.

Exercised.

Given a name.

Forgiven.

+ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . +

Quick photoshoot I did today on my deck -- it was colder than I realized outside! I was going to remove my tattoo from the photo, but once I started that, it just got more and more involved and I didn't want to spend two hours just on that. I'm lazy.

I was thinking about a lot of things when I made this, but it was inspired overall by the movie The Sound of My Voice (2011). I rented it as soon as it came out, after seeing trailers for it months earlier. My first time viewing, I didn't really like it at all and was disappointed. But I kept thinking about it, decided to watch it again, and now I'm on my way to loving it (that happens a lot; I really need to open my mind)..

Vultures

Do you know why vultures eat corpses?

They're scavengers, they're lazy.

Some people think so.

What do you think?

Vultures were once people, lost people who stayed lost. The fog swallowed them.

That's only a story. Lost people are just people.

No, it's the Gods' honest truth! After it rains and the fog descends, all the missing people lose control. They scream and cry out. They are overtaken by a paralysis and their arms grow feathers.

Listen to you. Where did you hear all this?

Mr. Lester told me! He swears it. He told me his sister went missing once, but it was muddy and he could follow her footprints. He saw her fall in the field and roll, her clothes were filthy and he couldn't see her face. She was screaming and the birds everywhe--

You shouldn't take Mr. Lester seriously. His sister left for the City. He's been mad with grief ever since.

No, she didn't leave for the City! If she did, how come no one's heard from her? She doesn't write or visit.

You've never met her. She left before you could walk. How would you know she hasn't written?

Because Mr. Lester isn't the only one who talks about her, and she isn't the only one who's gone to the City and never come back. No one ever comes back from the City. How do we even know there is a City? Have you ever been there?

Of course not, but that doesn't mean there isn't a City. You've never been to the Well with me, but the Well is still there.

Just listen! Mr. Lester said her arms flew back like they were pulled, her face grew long and her screams were terrible. He said it's the worse thing he's ever heard or seen. He said she started to turn black all over and the air grew cold. The wind changed direction and the vultures came from nowhere, sitting in the trees and watching like they knew her!

Vultures don't know people. Vultures are just large, lazy scavengers. They clean up the messes from the other animals. They let everything else do the work and then they leave. Don't let the stories of an old man fool you.

He isn't fooling me. We only see vultures in the village when someone goes missing, or 'goes to the City.' They're only here when it's foggy. Do you ever remember seeing them when the Sun is out?

No, I don't, but I don't concern myself with the movements of vultures. You shouldn't either. Look, you're sweating and working yourself up.

You don't believe me.

You're speaking of ridiculous things, the raving of a lonely man who has no family left. Vultures aren't people. I don't want you seeing Mr. Lester anymore.

But I like Mr. Lester. He needs someone to believe him. He saw these things happen, the Gods' honest truth!

He didn't see anything. I don't want you seeing him, I don't want him filling your head with his crazy stories. You shouldn't be so gullible.

♫ When the fogs roll in, the night is dark,

And the animals quiet, even the lark.

When the light is blocked by all the clouds,

Not even the priests will speak aloud.

That is when the lost are called,

One by one, alone, they fall,

And a lonely brother can see her there,

She goes away, he knows not where.

She joins the others in the sky,

To feast on corpses when the fog rolls by.

We don't believe the legends of the Wood,

But it's the Gods' honest truth that we should. ♫

No Surrender

It is the last weekend before the new semester starts, before the new spring, and I am desperate for change and for the ability to handle what's coming. Stress is the worst thing in my life, and though I feel completely adept at hiding my stress, it seems impossible to shut myself off from its experience, or to even diminish the experience. It is the reason for all my discomfort.

I do not place blame on stress, however, but rather on my own lack of self discipline in the face of stress. I have great plans for how to cope, but instead decide to buy a six-pack and watch TV, late at night when I get off work. And repeat, repeat. The cycle makes me so depressed that even the most basic meditation exhausts me, and each day I give up more easily. And repeat, repeat.

So of course, one of the bigger themes of my New Year's Resolutions is Find Ways to Better Deal with Stress. And I know what these art: more art, more exercise, improved diet, develop a more disciplined spiritual practice, more play, reading, imagination, meditation. Less booze, less smoking, (stop both...), less time non-productively spent on a computer, the end of procrastination. The end of feeding the strength of my stress by obsessing over it, worrying so much about how to handle it that I never actually do.

I believe there is a level of force required to defeat stress, and perhaps one of the simplest things is to force yourself to be positive. Punch through the mirror and declare, I am changing, I am making progress, there is evidence of these things. And I hope that this evidence will come to make up a portion of the meaningful content in this blog: how my puppy is growing into one of the sweetest dogs I've ever known (and how I'm starting to teach him some agility!), how I'm changing my diet and eating Mediterranean, low glycemic index meals, how I'm getting out more to photograph what I might begin calling "speed portraits":

I'm trying to spend more time with a variety of people, I'm cooking more at home again, on the weekends when I don't have work until the evening, I take some time to go to the gym. I snuggle more with my cat, I took Tuesdays off my work availability in order to attend more discussions with a local philoso-religious group I've known for a long time. I'm trying to laugh more without holding back. 

Anne Rice said, "The truth is, laughter always sounds more perfect than weeping. Laughter flows in a violent riff and is effortlessly melodic. Weeping is often fought, choked, half-strangled, or surrendered to with humiliation." I feel as though for some time, my laughter has sounded more like the latter, and I refuse for that to continue to be so. There are no more excuses nor justifications for surrendering to stress. 

Death Collections

Even at the height of summer, the trees are dead in Winterland. It's a ghost continent, lost somewhere at the North Pole, erased from maps and memory, where the cold preserves almost everything, where people rarely die.

Death likes to vacation there, get away from the rest of the world where his services are constantly needed. The people of Winterland treat him differently: they invite him in for coffee and black jack, include him in their home movies. The children carry around his little effigies and play with them in the snow.

The people of Winterland give alms to Death, tithes paid in blades and black silk, polar bear hides if it's been a prosperous season. All their exports go to him, and before his return to the daily grind of taking souls, he makes his way through the towns of Winterland, stopping at gates and doors to receive his appreciation. "We'll see you next year, Mister," she said, bowing her head in quiet respect.

Death gently took her gift and turned away, the fog curling around the edges of his cloak, and shadows settling where he once laid his feet.