The Photo Bin - November 2014

I'm still as bloated as a Macy's parade blimp (with nearly as much gas), the Lions avoided another Thanksgiving turkey, and the Cowboys got the giblets kicked out of them. All is right with the world.

As my brain is now muddled by tryptophan overload (the free-flowing aperitifs and after-dinner cordials, of course, have nothing to do with the haziness), the best I can do for the moment is to show a few pictures and call it a post. Yes, today I'm thankful for the Photo Bin.

Above, a picture of home. It's as warm and inviting as the image suggests. And inside it still smells of roasted turkey, fresh bread, and pumpkin pie. It don't get no better.

I add a couple more shots from my final Fall stroll. The woods were in full color when we left for a quick trip to the northlands and when we returned they were nothing but brown. As I'm still in a "painterly" mode, these abstracts speak to me of the season as much as any. Humor me.

And I appreciate the autumn images even more, having gotten my re-introduction to winter on our brief sojourn north. A quick iPhone shot, here, taken somewhere in Ohio during our return. Where exactly, I don't recall, but it's Ohio, for God's sake. Does it matter?

I'll catch Buckeye hell for that, I suppose.

But it feels good to be back home. And with that, I'll crawl back onto the couch to digest a bit more and leave the world outside to Black Friday themselves into a consumptive frenzy.

Good evening, my friends. I hope that your holiday was as delightful as mine.

What is a Photo Bin?

North and South

We rumble north, encased in our glass and our plastic and our steel
They travel south, clad only in feather and down

We crawl our concrete, gouged crudely into the earth to suit our desires
They ride the winds, following the invisible compass of generations

We tote our possessions as we have an insatiable need to acquire
They carry nothing; they need nothing, but each other

We motor, metered by mile and schedule and manifest
They soar, for the sun said the second was right

We go north, we are Lords of the planet, and we can
They go south, they are Impulse, and they must

North, we have conquered the season
South, they know only to embrace it

Oh, how we need to turn back

Fall Art

Interesting, isn't it, that when people want to compliment a photographer, they describe the work as 'painterly' (at least I do), and when people want to compliment a painter, they often say that, "it looks just like a photograph." - Bob White

The best part of this whole blogging thing is that, with a little good fortune, you find yourself getting acquainted with some incredibly talented and engaging individuals. Writers, photographers, artists. And part of the engagement is often discussions of the process; the creative mechanisms that drive folks to do what they do and their thoughts on what tumbles out.

Bob's observation, shared in a Facebook conversation, struck a chord with me and the fall shots included here, taken early yesterday morning on my river down the hill, have been "tweaked" with the thought of bridging that photo/painting gap. A little saturation, a reduction in clarity, an attempt to breath brushstrokes into them. A little Monet, if you will.

Better yet, a little Bob White.

Thanks, Bob, for your inspiration and your friendship. I'm looking forward to seeing what comes off the easel this year.

Translucent

I am worn thin by loss, translucent

I gleen no great lessons from death
Stand impotent in the face of it
For I am a simple man

I have no profound input
No wisdom learned from the years
No prescribed belief system from which to draw well-honed homilies
No symbols
Nothing that speaks to what comes next

All I know is that we return to the earth
And while that’s comfort enough for me
Most wish for more

I have, then, but one thing to offer
A simple thing
That your memory lives on within me
And moves forward, as it is the only direction I know

So before I, too, return to the earth
I promise
To be a vessel within which your memory rests serenely

A vessel, translucent
So that others might see you in me


To all those we have loved and have lost. But today, to Jan, friend and neighbor, kindred spirit, the usualest of Suspects, weaver of things, reed and friends intertwined, who fought the hard fight 'til the die was cast, then accepted, returned to the woods, and lived the remainder of her days on her own terms.

The Photo Bin - October 2014

This month's photo bin is a perfect example of why I do these things. It gives me an excuse to display some images that didn't quite fit into the theme of a piece but seemed worthy of a look on their own. These almost made posts, but...

For example, I suppose that this first pair of shots fit my South Holston rant - being forced onto the water before daybreak to take advantage of the tiny window we had before the TVA flooded the place - but the misty river images that I used seemed to deserve a space of their own. So instead, I get to share these here in the bin.

Pre-dawn jetboil coffee on the hatchback back bumper and shadowy figures from the trailhead. Lots of bumping around in the dark. It seems that I'm developing a weakness for low light images. Perhaps it's because I can't use a flash worth a damn.

Yes, that's definitely it.

This next image also came from that SoHo outing, a shot of the oxygenating weir that sits a half-mile or so below the dam. The photo fits absolutely nothing. But recursive things appeal to this old mathematician. Few understand.

The next few shots came out of our Indiana visit with Mary's sister. Her home sits in the midst of, you guessed it, a corn field and I must say that it's a bit creepy at times. I had planned on posting a bunch of images from the field, but the prose in the post I ended up writing took a direction of its own (as my prose, quite often, has a tendency to do) and the single, dark image I used seemed appropriate there.

There's a boatload of these shots to share, but pushing more than three here seems, well, kind of corny.

Finally, we've been living in this wooded community for several years now and I've been eyeing this old chimney, tucked back from the road, since we arrived. Seemed a perfect photo op, but I've never gotten around to trying anything until now. Here's a start, and one I'm not entirely satisfied with. Seems there's so much more to be done with it.

So, be forewarned, you might see more of this ruin in bins further on down the road.

What is a Photo Bin?