Quatrain #4: A Conversation of Color & Line

One of my earliest and most formative memories of seeing the world through a viewfinder was the process of studying and composing the interaction of color and line. And I found that the ongoing conversation between these two formal properties of image construction are the most compelling as they are appear in dramatic specimens of architecture. Some of my earliest photographic works are fascinations and recognitions of a geometric order in architectural form, and this way of seeing, or I could say, "this state of being," has never ceased.

So offering a small part of a much larger whole with simple design, frame-to-frame, and then collectively, is about as deep as this quatrain goes. It's an homage to color and line with a twist.

With that said however, this sequence of four has been one of the most elusive for me to organize and settle on as it is. I wrestled with several image choices and quatrain iterations to reveal a couple visual threads that could convey an idea. Each iteration brought emphasis to specific subject matter, form, line, positive & negative space, among other things, but none of the others brought the conversation to closure like this one did. Looking into the details might reveal some intriguing surprises.

Quatrain #3: Unsown Seeds

One year ago today... perhaps not exactly the date... but just the same, I clearly remember it being a late-summer, late-Sunday afternoon. I learned via eMail that one of my students had suddenly died in a car accident along with another young man. It was a moment where all one could do is exclaim in response, "no!" He was 20-something, brimming with optimism, and loaded with talent. All I need to say for now is that I really miss seeing and working with him. He was on track to graduate within the year, so his absence was very palpable.

By this time in my life, of course I knew what it was like to learn of someone passing away. Whether it's a friend, relative, or acquaintance, news like this is never easy to hear about and process. But this was the first time a tragedy of this magnitude made such a deep impression on my photographic life.

A little more than two weeks later, I learned that another student passed away because of complications from a condition he'd been battling for several years. He too was brimming with optimism, and loaded with talent, at the age of 69. I really miss him, too, and this second event made for a rather extensive time to reflect.

Two very different lives that I found who had some common ground, a passion, and a vision. I know for certain that there are some unsown seeds they had produced... their photographs, I mean... those that were made but not quite ready for release.

Quatrain #2: Red, White, & Blue

On that morning, the air was crisp, the sun was hot, the sky was bald and blue. I took my daughter to preschool, and prepared my mind for one of the first days of teaching that semester. The car radio was tuned to NPR and by the time I got home, I heard this unbelievable news. I'll never forget walking into the front door and immediately telling my wife about it. A friend of hers was there then too, and the words I heard her say in response were very callous and cold. I believe that she really didn't understand what I was talking about, and I was flummoxed.

The gravity of the news stunned my mind and body because it was many moons previous that I was there, gazing with wonder at that magnificent site. The apartment of my friend at Canal and Varick had this seventh floor, up close and personal view of them. Although appearing to be practically next door, they were really blocks and blocks away. He and his wife always gave me a futon to sleep on with a window view. When I cast my gaze from the floor up to the night time sky, there they were; humble, peaceful, and glowing with that playful randomness that interior lighting always seems to do. Regardless of the car horns, alarms, sirens, and subways passing through, falling asleep was never difficult. They would bid me goodnight, then greet me in the morning; stellar, bold, and just standing there... so cool. No matter how many times I visited, I always loved to see those friends, see that site, be in The City.

I drove to the college, and I listened to the radio on the way. I found out that it happened a second time. I sat at a red light at the intersection of Huron Parkway and Washtenaw Avenue, waiting patiently, listening helplessly. As I walked into the LA building, people were crowded around one of those TVs mounted up high on a wall, near the ceiling. That was the first time I saw what I heard. A faculty member suddenly turned around to escape the crowd, and as our eyes met he threw his hands into the air and exclaimed, "who would do this?!, ...who would do something like this?!" I was speechless. I had no idea what to say. I watched some more, and still couldn't really understand what I was seeing, and I'm not sure if anyone else standing there could either. I got to my office, closed the door, and cried.

The rest of the day was just surreal. I went to lunch with a colleague and the sky was just as clear, in fact, it appeared to be even clearer. There was not an aircraft to be seen anywhere, at any altitude, let alone the typical mess of contrails that paint the sky with diagonals. When I taught my 1:00pm class, I started with, "whoever needs to go home, can go home... no questions asked." Those who know my attendance policy are the only ones who can put any real value on that statement. When I returned home a mountain of news had accumulated... it was overwhelming. We had a TV, but we hadn't used it for any sort of broadcast reception for almost two years. No antennae, no cable. I went to a local mega-grocer-department store to buy a set of rabbit ear antennae for 12 bucks. As for the picture quality? It was so 20th Century.

Did this change my life? Yes, indeed. Does my experience attempt to compare itself to someone who had a friend or loved one that got in the way of all this? No way.

As for the quatrain? Let your mind wander, wonder, and find on its own.

Quatrain #1: The Four Seasons

This posting launches a collection of visual poems that I am releasing throughout the remainder of the year; one per week, for sixteen weeks. Each poem is composed with four images to form a quatrain, which in the literary world is a style of poetry limited to four line stanzas of any kind; rhymed, metered, or otherwise. Without a doubt, an image holds potential for poetic expression all by itself, but when held up to other images the possibilities of expanding on ideas and even storytelling become really compelling.

In October 2010, I began to consider in earnest my humble iPhone to be the iWitness of my relentless wanderings, wonderings, and the found. This gadget has revealed itself to be one of the greatest partners of my photographic life, since the work that I have produced with it absolutely defines the essence of this blog. I fell in love with the act of seeing unlike any other time of my life, and I am grateful to the forces that kindled this crucible of creativity. A physical and creative process that lends itself entirely to the immediacy of the moment, and the ability to share even the simplest of forms with someone else, who I think can value it. The process has become just like shouting down the road to a friend, "hey, look!... I wish you were here to see this with me because this event is going to disappear in just a few minutes (seconds)."

I should mention that I get out to walk my dog, Zuzu, two to three times a day, so the effort of getting out to think, wander, wonder, and find... it's just part of what I do. What I respond to in any given situation is difficult to put a finger on. There is no rule, and any one image is a response to a huge range of possibilities. An image can be triggered from what someone said, to being a visceral response of current events. In the end, what ultimately gets found are the intangibles; feelings, memories, dreams, and reflections.

The quatrains then, are larger assemblies of ideas. Each image removed from its original intent and made part of a new whole. I like to think that unconsciously, I was putting these all together from the beginning, but that is a bit of a stretch. So I'll just say that a quatrain is purely a manifestation of intuition, and what they mean to me, they most likely won't mean to you. Allow yourself to interpret a quatrain the way you see it, and how it speaks to you via your life and experience.

Sending Light Aloft...

I've been seeking out a way to render the summer solstice ever since I

did the winter solstice in 2000. Both are a celebration of light.

Hanetuki

20 May 2010 I had the honor of meeting six school children at the Sadako Children's Memorial in Hiroshima, Japan. Although our serendipitous encounter was very short, it was one of the most amazing and mysterious experiences of my visit. This paper construction I received was produced by kids from Kamigo Elementary School, Yamaguchi Prefecture, Japan. Endearingly misspelled, Hanetsuki is a game similar to badminton, without the net. You'll soon learn that the remainder of this posting has nothing to do with the game, but instead provides only a tactile memento of this wandering.

When this group of kids approached me, each introduced him/herself in English with facts about where they were from, and questions for me regarding where I was from. Not that this was anything unusual. As a Westerner at a significant destination such as this in Japan, it is a very common to be approached by a group of school children and asked to participate in a brief cultural exchange. What made this encounter particularly unique is that I had been desperately seeking for a maigo (lost) student of my own for almost a hour, and let me just say that his personality and biological predisposition warranted my heightened concern and anxiety for his well being, let alone his whereabouts in the thick of a major Japanese city. As far as I was concerned, it was going to take me the remainder of the day to find him, if at all.

During the first few moments of this encounter with these kids I probably conveyed hesitation and some resistance to engage in their request, due to my anxiety. What I remember saying to myself was, "I simply can't afford to do this right now." But what I discovered in the passing seconds was a melting away of stress, an opportunity to take a deep breath, and get myself centered. Anxiety was exchanged for peacefulness.

They handed me the Hanetsuki construction, we bid our respectful farewells, I walked about 30 sobered paces; and there he was. I found my student emerging from some heavy pedestrian traffic, blissfully on his way to this site. Relieved and mystified to see him, I nonchalantly greeted him and expressed some urgency that we needed to catch up to the other 17 people in our group. I'm not looking for an explanation, I'm just going to go with this one, but I am once again participant to synchronicity, with a bit of Zen mixed in for spice.

I received the paper construction as a very meaningful gift, and I treasure it, but hindsight, the entire episode is a gift. I am so thankful for those kids for making my visit so special, and my memories of Japan so powerful. The more I think of it I am beginning to grow strangely thankful for my student getting lost and found — now that is one unusual gift.

Moon Over Lake Biwa

This is the cherry that tops off a truly amazing week in Japan. After an eventfully long day, this celestial event immediately took me back out again — the Moon and Venus setting together. When I arrived at the lake shore, an old man was fishing while sitting on the rocks in the darkness. He was obviously content to send out another cast and we witnessed the spectacle together. Whether he caught anything tonight, or not, is another story. All I know at this minute is that I am very fortunate to know Japan as a deeply mysterious place, where synchronicity can have incredible positive flow within a culture of immeasurable rules, etiquette, and protocol.

Itadakimasu!

The market at Choshi can bring almost any seafaring food to the table. I'm Immersed in salt air (shiokaze), good friends, and this beautiful specimen staring me down. I'm here to see new things, to get hooked on my camera again, and serve the world with light, color, and design.

Elizabeth Gilbert Talks on Nurturing Creativity

Technology, Entertainment, Design (TED) Awards 2009

Carl Jung's Red Book

20 Sep 2009 Article from The New York Times Sunday Magazine

Thinking Outloud is...

...an experiment to offer questions about the journey of image making.