New Work: More Flowers

Yes, flowers again. I am still enamoured with Prescott Park (Portsmouth, NH), even though I had absolutely zero motivation to shoot today. Here are a few of my favorite shots:

New Work: Shadows

As a child, I could stare at my bedroom wall for what seemed like hours at the time, watching the patterns of light change as the day progressed. At night, I would watch the headlights of cars driving down my street "travel" against the walls as they passed the house. A brand-new series of nine photographs both attempts to recreate the peaceful, "at-one-with-everything" feeling I felt then and also serves as an experiment with the contemplative photography elements of light, simplicity, texture, and space.

Here are a few of my favorite shots:

See more of the "Shadows" series and examples of my other photographic work at sabeanphotos.webs.com

Art as an Expression of Hope

This past year, I participated as an artist volunteer in “the Art of Recovery,” a collaboration between the NH Art Association and the Seacoast Mental Health Center (Portsmouth, NH.) Over several months, I met with “K” and shared our love for photography… and life.

Check out my blog archives (see right) for other entries about the project.

What I didn’t tell anyone at the time was that only a few weeks after I agreed to participate in the program, I had just been diagnosed with DCIS, an early form of breast cancer. So while it may have looked on the outside as if I was somehow “helping” K heal and providing her hope for persevering over her medical condition, she was unknowingly doing the same for me.

Few of us take the time to appreciate fully the synergy between art, healing, and hope. Doctors generally understand the connection: that’s why they practice “Medical Arts.” Others of us feel that some magical potion is simmering below the surface, although we may not how to put into words. For example, we often make ourselves feel better by immersing ourselves in the arts. We enjoy works of art that others have made: we watch a movie, read poetry, listen to music, or visit a museum. Or we do something creative ourselves: whether it’s planting a tree, cooking, or woodworking. We may not always be in awe of the communicative and healing powers of artistic expression, but we sense that it somehow “makes us feel better” and helps us put one foot in front of another for even just one more day. Oftentimes, that is enough.

A month or so, I attended a fundraising event for the Art of Recovery, where the patient participants auctioned off some of the masterpieces they created during their collaborations with Art Association members. K, accompanied by her mother and sister, beamed with pride as attendees complimented her on her work. She deserved it: she's a natural talent. She may not have fully conquered her condition yet. But that night, I had the honor of watching her spirit soar to the evening sky and waltz with the stars. Moreover, the voodoo spell that DCIS cast on my own life was temporarily broken, too.

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The following is a collage I made last weekend at a retreat for cancer survivors (both patients and their loved ones/caregivers):

Each time I look at it, I'm hypnotized by its ugliness: it makes me feel like I'm staring down "the C beast" and refusing to give in to fear. Physician, heal thyself.....

Here it Comes, Here it Comes.....

{You may have heard the expression "tortured artist" before. Ironically, it's usually the artist himself who catalyzes his own creative meltdown. Read on to learn what my "19th nervous breakdown" feels like...)

I've been producing more images in 2012 than ever before. I should feel happy about that. I don't.

The new work I've been creating feels extremely derivative of other people's artwork that the public deems to be "good." For example, I've been trying to produce contemplative pieces that directly express the true nature of the subject. But all I manage to do, it seems, is "ape" the work of other artists/practitioners who are trying to do exactly the same thing.

My desire to somehow impress the founders (and keepers of the flame) of contemplative photography is making the situation worse. I thought I'd figured out the "game": just submit work that looks as much like theirs as I can find. It backfired: the work was accepted, but I felt like a fraud. (Even though contemplative photography has become one of my main --and most authentic-- forms of meditation these days.)

Speaking of "feeling," I've been hankering to create something "unique" while still respecting the tenets of Contemplative Photography. I don't have an answer on how to accomplish that yet. No surprise there: I still barely understand the problem.

Whining and self-pity are counter-productive. Taking the camera out for some "visual brainstorming" is better to do. I've been revisiting the theme for which my work is recognized -- closeups, especially of flowers -- any trying to "push the envelope" further. I'm experimenting with compositions which are more abstract and exploring color choices which are less expected. I'm also embracing the bokeh.

Here's a shot I took only a few days ago to show you what I mean...

I haven't decided yet whether I like it. (That's a good thing, because it's means I succeeded in stepping out of my comfort zone.)

Almost Lost a Toe....

...during this impromptu photo shoot in Vermont yesterday afternoon. Snapping away merrily in sandals near a pond SEEMED like a good idea at the time. However, I made a speedy retreat after he spotted a mid-afternoon snack at the bottom of my legs:

This next photo is my favorite: it looks like he's saluting the flag!

More Growing Things.....

I still have lots of images to edit from my weekend away, but here are a few more teasers....

Say Ahhhh!

After the Rain

 

This final image was inspired by my husband's amazing lilacs photography, posted here a few weeks ago: