The Many Stories in an Image

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I have slowing been going through the images I took when on a personal vacation in Alaska. I found this image of my nephew which I really liked but I felt that it lacked .... something.

Dreaming

The photo was taken at a low angle and I loved his expression but I found that my eye was drawn to the yellow stripe on his sweater and on the frame of the picture on the wall.

So what to do?

As I love Black & White images, I thought I would try the conversion to see what would come of it. 

Dreaming

Much much better in my opinion. My eyes naturally were drawn to his eyes and the expression on his face.

But what would happen if I cropped it?

Darn it, I liked that one too and now I was stuck with two images that I liked. Which one do I chose?

This whole process brought an interesting point home to me. The image was trying to tell me something. Yes, I know that it sound corney, but I think that one of the things that makes the difference between snapshots and photography is the voice of the image.

To me, the cropped version is much more of a portrait. It focuses on my nephew. It tells a story of an individual.
The larger image tells more of a story to me of a person in a much larger context.

So what does that mean? It means that the art of photography exists in what you, as an artist, are trying to say. What feelings are you trying to convey or capture? Think about each image. Listen to what it is trying to say to you. As you study your images and work with them, you will discover your voice.

 

A Dog Named Beau

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A wonderful poem written by the actor Jimmy Stewart.

“While shooting a movie in Arizona, Stewart received a phone call from Dr. Keagy, his veterinarian, who informed him that Beau was terminally ill, and that Gloria sought his permission to perform euthanasia. Stewart declined to give a reply over the phone, and told Keagy to ‘keep him alive and I'll be there.’ Stewart requested several days' leave, which allowed him to spend some time with Beau before granting the doctor permission to euthanize the sick dog. Following the procedure, Stewart sat in his car for ten minutes to clear his eyes of tears. Stewart later remembered: ‘After [Beau] died there were a lot of nights when I was certain that I could feel him get into bed beside me and I would reach out and pat his head. The feeling was so real that I wrote a poem about it and how much it hurt to realize that he wasn’t going to be there any more.’”

 

He never came to me when I would call
Unless I had a tennis ball,
Or he felt like it,
But mostly he didn't come at all.
 
When he was young
He never learned to heel
Or sit or stay,
He did things his way.
 
Discipline was not his bag
But when you were with him things sure didn't drag.
He'd dig up a rosebush just to spite me,
And when I'd grab him, he'd turn and bite me.
 
He bit lots of folks from day to day,
The delivery boy was his favorite prey.
The gas man wouldn't read our meter,
He said we owned a real man-eater.
 
He set the house on fire
But the story's long to tell.
Suffice it to say that he survived
And the house survived as well.
 
On the evening walks, and Gloria took him,
He was always first out the door.
The Old One and I brought up the rear
Because our bones were sore.
 
He would charge up the street with Mom hanging on,
What a beautiful pair they were!
And if it was still light and the tourists were out,
They created a bit of a stir.
 
But every once in a while, he would stop in his tracks
And with a frown on his face look around.
It was just to make sure that the Old One was there
And would follow him where he was bound.
 
We are early-to-bedders at our house -- I guess I'm the first to retire.
And as I'd leave the room he'd look at me
And get up from his place by the fire.
He knew where the tennis balls were upstairs,
And I'd give him one for a while.
He would push it under the bed with his nose
And I'd fish it out with a smile.
 
And before very long He'd tire of the ball
And be asleep in his corner In no time at all.
And there were nights when I'd feel him Climb upon our bed
And lie between us,
And I'd pat his head.
 
And there were nights when I'd feel this stare
And I'd wake up and he'd be sitting there
And I reach out my hand and stroke his hair.
And sometimes I'd feel him sigh and I think I know the reason why.
 
He would wake up at night
And he would have this fear
Of the dark, of life, of lots of things,
And he'd be glad to have me near.
 
And now he's dead.
And there are nights when I think I feel him
Climb upon our bed and lie between us,
And I pat his head.
And there are nights when I think I feel that stare
And I reach out my hand to stroke his hair,
But he's not there.
 
Oh, how I wish that wasn't so,
I'll always love a dog named Beau.

                             ~ James Stewart

 


MAWMR - Mid-Atlantic Women's Motorcycle Rally

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For the female bikers out there who have nothing to do next weekend ... <G> .... come join the fun at MAWMR — the Mid-Atlantic Women's Motorcycle Rally in Gettysburg. Last year we raised $24,000 for breast cancer .... http://www.mawmr.org/

This is a (long) slideshow of some of the shenanigans that went on last year ...

2012 MAWMR - 20th Anniversary from Lida Verner on Vimeo.

The Mid-Atlantic Women's Motorcycle Rally is the premiere women’s motorcycling event in the Mid-Atlantic. Held every June, it brings together women motorcyclists and enthusiasts for a three day rally full of friendship, games, educational seminars, rides, contests, and fundraising to support women with the challenges of cancer. The weekend culminates in the Parade of Chrome through the streets of Gettysburg and a banquet to honor women and pledge our fundraising support to those that have been touched by cancer.

Article - Moonlighting is a Necessity in Poland (1964)

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I found this article. It is from the St. Paul Dispatch written on July 09, 1964 written (from what I can guess) when my folks came home to have me. :-D  

(click the thumbnail for a larger image)

And I would like to point out that it is really strange to see a picture of my father without his beard. <G>

I turned the article over and saw "CANADA WILL GET COLOR TV for the first time next fall." How times have changed.

 

A Glimpse Into The Past

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I found an old newspaper clipping about my great grandfather, Chester Griffin. Yes, he is the father of my 103 year old grandmother. Grandpa Griffin ran away to the navy in January 1901 when he was 15 years old. He served on the original USS Constillation and was on the first ship that sailed into San Franscisco harbor after the 1906 earthquake.


(click on the thumbnail for a larger version)

 

I Stood By Your Bed Last Night

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I stood by your bed last night, I came to have a peep. I could see that you were crying, You found it hard to sleep.

I whined to you softly as you brushed away a tear, "It's me, I haven't left you, I'm well, I'm fine, I'm here."

I was close to you at breakfast, I watched you pour the tea, You were thinking of the many times, your hands reached down to me.

I was with you at the shops today, Your arms were getting sore. I longed to take your parcels, I wish I could do more.

I was with you at my grave today, You tend it with such care. I want to reassure you, that I'm not lying there.

I walked with you towards the house, as you fumbled for your key. I gently put my paw on you, I smiled and said "it's me."

You looked so very tired, and sank into a chair. I tried so hard to let you know, that I was standing there.

It's possible for me to be so near you everyday. To say to you with certainty, "I never went away."

You sat there very quietly, then smiled, I think you knew, in the stillness of that evening, I was very close to you.

The day is over... I smile and watch you yawning and say "good-night, God bless, I'll see you in the morning."

And when the time is right for you to cross the brief divide, I'll rush across to greet you and we'll stand, side by side.

I have so many things to show you, there is so much for you to see. Be patient, live your journey out ... then come home to be with me.

- Author unknown


 

The Cherry Blossoms are in Full Bloom!

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I went downtown around dawn in the hopes of getting some sunrise pictures of the cherry blossoms around the Tidal Basin. Alas, it was already crowded with photographer, but eventually I found a parking place.

I spent some time taking pictures, but I have to confess that I spent more time enjoying the warmth of the sunshine and watching the people.

To see larger images, click directly on the slideshow.

 


http://lidaverner.smugmug.com/photos/swfpopup.mg?AlbumID=28880112&AlbumKey=CS5q44