Week Four Theme: Silence

eternal silence

Because I rarely wander into cemeteries other than for funerals, graveyards are not on my daily radar. As I contemplated my choices for this week's picture, it took me days to realize the obvious; nothing is more silent than death. And the cemetery that means the most to me is this one. I grew up in the small town of Little Canada, so I recognize most of the names on the stones: Fleischacker, Belland, Ducharme, Gagne, and Huot, my own. Seeing those four letters chiseled into the granite speaks to me of my inevitable future. My grandparents are buried here. My cousins, my friend's parents, and many faces once familiar are now buried in this cemetery. I was the only one there on the morning of this picture. I was surrounded by a beautiful and reverent silence. The snow and solitude made it serene. The crisp air jolted my senses, and I felt brightly alive. Glad to have taken the time for this visit.

Week Three Theme: The Light Fantastic

sun-sations

When blue meets up with orange, that is my idea of visual perfection. I was glad to have my camera as we walked along the Santa Monica Pier and watched the sky become every minute more wildly radiant. Being the best weather in weeks, we were not alone there. I decided to mask the public-ness of this scene the best I could. The glaring lights on the beach are obscured by the palm tree, the parking lot by the fence, and the park benches by the darkness of the foreground. I also needed to time my shots in between the constant stream of passers-by. So even though this is not quite the reality of that bustling moment, it is how I prefer to remember it.

through the looking glass

This next photo is the reflection I caught a few evenings later, as we cruised home along The Strand in Manhattan Beach. The smallest and most humble of the mansions that line the strip cost a mere seven million. With sunsets and views like this, I can understand why. I used the wall of the bike path to stabilize my camera and aimed toward the house. I had my brother and sister-in-law pause and turn their gaze to the side. I was thinking of the black construction paper cut-out hanging in our house growing up of my dad's profile, as a young boy. It always amazed me how easy it was to identify him with the one simple line. Maybe this is more about shape and shadow for me than "the light fantastic," but the sun's last big breath is what drew me to the glass wall of this house in the first place. And anyway, we can't have shadow without light.

Week Two Theme: Topsy-Turvy

an in-school suspension

Honestly, I had to look it up. I wasn't sure if it meant tippy or chaotic or exactly how it was defined, and I certainly didn't want to misinterpret the challenge. Literally, it means "upside down". So I started imagining everything with its bottom up. My kids. My kitchen. Myself, hanging from the balcony desperately grasping onto the camera. Then, this scene. I was thinking of this room I saw in an amusement park when I was young where the entire workings of the house were on the ceiling (which was a wooden floor) to give the illusion that you yourself were on the ceiling. (Where WAS that anyway??) So, I hauled this chair up the stairs and grabbed two large, metal clamps. I set up the tripod and arranged the scene. I took a few terrible pictures.  The chair just wasn't turned the way it should be. One little adjustment, I thought, forgetting how precariously the legs were balanced on the slippery plastic clamp ends. The chair came crashing down on me and eventually the desks and everything on them. I can tell you that trying to catch two six-foot clamps and a falling rocking chair that is much heavier and more awkward than you might first imagine is not gracefully (or quietly) done. But stopping mid-project, even when sensible, is not how I operate.  I re-clamped. Then I tiptoed over to the window, lie down on the floor and shot my photo challenge for the week.

seasonal affects, in disorder

One is never enough. I like to see what else I can do with the theme. I worked this other idea for a few days, trying out various locations and propping agents (my son, a small apple tree, the iced-over snow itself . . .) This shot won out because it is the most hectic-looking, which worked with the theme. (Topsy-turvy also means "in a state of confusion.") I wanted the corner of my yard to look like a forest. Don't we all? What is actually there is a few small pine trees and shrubs with your choice of backdrop: a chain-link fence with a "Beware of Dog" sign, a helter-skelter tree house with home-owner yard clutter, or, my favorite, the conspicuous interstate. I really had to work the angles. I was glad the falling snow helped softened the fence line. The other problem I had was that, with snow on the ground, trying to "leave no trace" is ridiculous, yet what I wanted.  That this spruce simply grew for years, topsy-turvy, in this dense and natural forest unnoticed and without any aid. So, take it for what it is and is not, but maybe could be.

Between Rocks and a Hard Place

Nearing forty, I can't help but think I should be nip-tucking instead of tuck-pointing. But, there it is. I am learning more than I ever wanted to know about lime mortar and pointing tools. A job I thought would take a matter of a few days, (when will I ever learn?), has turned into quite the intensive project. All my clay ventures are on hold, buried beneath efflorescence and grimy trowels. Interestingly, there is a resemblance to the texture of the mortar with that of clay. As I apply a skim coat to the walls, I am using some of the same sculpting techniques I use on stoneware pieces. 

I have fantasies of making the walls a sculpture in their own right. Some Mayan god with large hooped earrings maybe. Create the kind of room I saw at a woman's home in the Baja. Or a gigantic sea green luna moth fluttering near a campfire. But, for now, they are purely functional and insanely ugly. And I can't paint them at all until the mortar cures. Six months of gray and white. Such cold colors. And I can't build the shelves either until all the work is complete. Patience is not something anyone has ever praised me for having. I will work on that too. Just add it to the list.

lines of light

a frosty sunrise

In the meantime, I've started another photography project with some flickr friends. It's a weekly assignment that works within the confines of themes. The first week is "fire and ice." I have been seeing the world through this idea and attempting to capture my interpretation of this theme. I have been using the sun as the "fire" and well, ice is simply everywhere these days. I will post these pictures here in lieu of clay pieces until I am back in the throes, or more aptly, "in the throws".