Photography Thinks
So, sometimes creativity rises up and bites your brain. No need to introduce itself; it’s just there. A ginger flower stuck into a bunch of carnations as an after thought. Dwarfed them. On its own, it found a place to show its colors with friends blue and green.
So, I went to the Cancer Doctor today. He said my blood was the best ever. I cried. He and Sharon smiled.
The more severe the hit, the longer it takes. Photog, modeling or shooting doesn’t matter. I refocused. But I still cannot avoid the pain, especially when DRUMp goes after a judge, a USDC one for that matter.
Remind me what I did, exactly – Justice and a showing that judges aren’t flower pots or sub human.
Vaccinate now, before LITTLE Bobby says you are too late.
Wasted my afternoon at Subaru. Didn’t have a the part my car needed, despite sending recall notice telling me to bring the car in or a loaner car so the car could be checked out. Drove out there for nothing (40 minutes each way and gas and anxiety on the turnpike).
As I made the appointment to return on Friday, the pleasant woman at the desk revealed a tattoo (my favorite off topic subject besides actual flowers). After a compliment on her art, I asked if I could shoot it.
She noticed my little point and shoot and said she was a budding photog who did weddings and portraits with a camera her father bought her, the name of which and make she didn’t know. I was so annoyed at having to return, but nonetheless motivated to get a shot.
I only had the patience for one or two shots (no time to adjust the light), but I got the tattoo. Fixed it like the other one in LR and Color Efex.
Help! I have fallen.
Warhol exposes mundane objects as primary subjects, such as the banana, to demonstrate the rise in mass production and distribution in the second half of the 20th century. Me, I am more interested in the banana peel as a hazardous object. Not a lot of nutritional value in a banana peel. Used to cause eaters of the fleshy center to cast them off into well trod public spaces. Donovan may have seen it as a psychedelic 🧐
So, it’s Black History Month and a time to learn more about our own racial history, not all of which we can be proud of. But, in checking my photo chores for the day, I didn’t come up with a Black Photog, but rather one of the first white photogs who made beautiful images of black women and things. “Kanaga championed the artistic value of photography and documented urgent social issues, from urban poverty and labor rights to racial terror and inequality.” Also, the first woman photog for San Francisco Chronicle. Up there with Dorothea. Presently has show in San Francisco. The two b/w images are from Brooklyn Museum collection.
I cannot match her style or touch. The best I can do is this for right now.
Jules Feiffer died after living for 95 years. He wrote books and screenplays and drew cartoons. His wisdom extended from sex to politics and his reach from a weekly progressive newspaper to the Hollywood screen. https://www.nytimes.com/2025/01/21/arts/jules-feiffer-dead.html
Who knew he wrote a children’s book? I read it. Made no sense and flew in the face of reality for bear lovers. A kid with many friends, one of which is a bear, loses her bear. Her father wants to teach her a lesson, so he won’t help her. Mother offers some not so helpful suggestions. And her sister, who is more mature criticizes her for using nail polish and cajoles her into sacrificing one of her family of friends.
How does it end. Happily. She jumps into bed and voila, “Bearsly” lies under the covers, right where she left him/her.
Now, I am a bear person. Couldn’t live without their love and affection. I always know where they are. Sharon said that during my 17 weeks in the hospital, the hardly slept and crawled around the house looking for me.
Garbage pickup takes place around 7:00 a.m., twice a week. They take the can we put on the street, dump it and leave it near the garage.
We repeatedly forget to put out the garbage can. Sharon runs to the curb or down the street, just in time to catch the truck and dump the trash. If the truck passes me, I get a honk and a thumbs up.
Hubert, the driver, has stopped Sharon a number of times to ask about my health. He says he prays for me.
His assistant is another rooter.
So I am dealing with lymphoma, skin cancer, aging teeth, and spinal stenosis that got a spinal. Just had hernia mending. Lung problems required surgery, but my breathing seems OK. And the heart doctor says, “…, no problems. Easy for him to say. He doesn’t treat hearts broken like mine is.