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Posts Tagged ‘Inspiration’

Of course, I mean nook as in my “small corner, alcove, or recess” and my  somewhat “hidden, secluded spot” where I can sit in sun or moonlight, to think, to write, to photograph … however the spirit moves me.  I feel very lucky to have access to such a place.

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Several years ago I attended a national conference sponsored by a major environmental organization.  The conference was held in a lovely out of the way place in a southern state.  I and a colleague had petitioned our company to pay for our attendance as part of our professional development.  When we arrived and began to mingle amongst the other 498 guests, I noticed something immediately but I didn’t say anything to my colleague.  However my colleague quickly pointed out the unspoken:  that I was one of just three brown people at the multi-day event.  As I attended the various sessions, I listened as people discussed how to save rainforests and wildlands, and contemplated strategies to bus minority children out of cities to visit green spaces.  I understood the intent behind the words, but I was troubled.  As the days progressed, I felt something building inside me until …

… near the end of the conference, I sat in a small group session.  I don’t remember the session’s focus.  But I remember the look on a well-meaning person’s face as she all but called me “you poor thing” when I admitted out loud that I had never seen the Grand Canyon or Yellowstone.  As someone else went on to raise how do we (as in environmentalists) get more African Americans interested in the environment, I snapped.  Let me tell you, I was much more shy then than I am now.  So it was a big deal for me to open my mouth in that group and give them a piece of my mind about labeling and having narrow views about who was interested in the environment.   Afterwards I raced to the restroom.  I was shaky.  I was new to the environmental field.  Many of the people in that room had been working in the field longer than I had been alive.  What did I know?

As I slowly washed my hands, into the restroom walked Terry Tempest Williams, one of the conference presenters and a well-known writer and activist.  I loved her work but at that moment I just wanted to dash right pass her. However, she held me with her eyes.   “Well said in there.”  That’s it.  That’s all she said, but it was all I needed to hear.  That moment, that encouragement has stayed with me over the years and came to mind this morning as I read one of her recent essays, “A Disturbance of Birds.”  It is a beautifully written piece about her discovery of a brain tumor.  Woven throughout her story are the stories of other people.  Dotting this narrative quilt are birds in all forms.

I highly recommend a read of this essay.  Her words greatly moved me.  At first I found myself thinking of loved ones recently lost and then of loved ones who are currently not in good health.  I thought of loved ones traveling who I wish were home.  And then I thought of birds.  The ones I watched with my mom.  The robin described by my uncle.  The blue herons I see with Steve.   The birdsong I cannot photograph but which inspires me so.   And then finally I was filled with gratitude.  I am grateful for the people I have met throughout my life and hopeful for the ones I have yet to meet.  As the sun shines bright today, I know that I have been lucky. 😉

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A little over ten years ago I began telling friends and co-workers that I wanted to go fishing.  For the most part, they’d all gently laugh.  You see, at first glance, most people would not have considered me — a small brown woman often with a book in hand, sipping lattes in Starbucks — as the fishing sort.  Yet something about the concept of fishing suddenly appealed to me.  Perhaps it was romantic idealism based on childhood memories of fishing scenes in old television shows.  Or maybe it was remembered tales told by my dad of his firsthand experiences fishing in the backwoods of Virginia.  Whatever the reason, fishing brought to mind a beautiful calm.  And though I could not articulate it clearly even to myself, a bit of calm was what I needed at that point in my life.  Eventually, a friend in the office, a young man who’d grown up in a coastal city near Boston, looked at me over the lunchroom table and said with a big grin, “Okay, lady.  You take a day off, I’ll take you fishing.”  In short, it was a wonderful day of sitting on a rocky shore with our poles in the dark blue waters of the Atlantic.  Our hooks were baited with squid.  Older gents would share tips with us “youngsters.”  We caught nothing except what I needed most:  calm.  Fast forward to the present …

Recently, Steve offered me the opportunity to fish at a popular spot near Castle Island.  It would be my first time fishing since that desperately needed excursion over a decade ago.  This time around I felt no “need” of anything from the trip.  I simply wanted to share a new experience with a person important in my life, and to try my hand again at an activity I remembered as fun. Heck, I thought, this time around I might even catch a fish.

We used squid as the tasty lure.  Once the hook had been baited, Steve taught me how to cast (last time the fellow did it for me).  As I stood at the rail holding the rod, I was aware of the looks we received from the neighboring fishermen.  As you can see I am still not quite up to speed on fishing attire. A few people came over to chitchat. I let Steve do all the talking.  I stared out into the sea.

I watched the rippling of the water and the gentle rise and fall of the waves.  In the ephemeral light of the cloudy day, every shade of blue appeared on the water’s surface.  For just a moment.  No fish did I see  but I kept imagining them down in the dark depths, nibbling on my squid.  Birds flew overhead.  Sailboats drifted by.  In the end,  I caught nothing except of course that calm.  Unexpected but welcome.  A treat.  As Steve and I walked back to the car, and he outlined our strategy for next time so that we’d actually catch something, I realized I didn’t need to a catch a fish.  It was the journey that mattered to me, not the destination.  When I shared that revelation with Steve, he was quiet for a moment, then said, “I respect your feelings.  But let’s test that theory once you actually have a fish on the line.”

Hmmm.  We’ll see … 😉

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Such beauty to be found in a Brooklyn backyard.  This stunning photo by guest contributor, Lorraine.

I have written often of family on this blog and how family, past and present, influence and inspire me.  Well, in this present, there are few people who inspire my photography more than my cousin with her eye for the subtle beauty to be found in a small urban space.  I am thankful she has allowed me to post some of her photos on this site over the years.  See for yourself …

speaking-of-morning-glories

spring in new york

brooklyn rainbows

butterflies and more butterflies

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Still experimenting with shooting the yellow calla, this time focusing on background colors.

Inspired by recent sunsets, I taped a piece of orange paper to my wall and zeroed in on one bloom.

Against the orange, my “yellow” calla even more clearly shows its many shades of gold and reds and even strips of green.  Next up …

… red paper.  Maybe.  I’ll let you know how it goes. 😉

 

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Reading photographer Jay Kinghorn’s post about how audio affects perception of visual images reminded me of the “soundtracks” I used to create as I wrote short stories.  The music I collected helped me channel, get lost in, build and sustain emotions that I needed to create strong images on the page.  With the support of a tech savvy roommate, I even played around with Windows Media and tried to weave together my written words with still images and compiled music.  The goal?  Simply to tell a story and use accompanying music to create emotional resonance.  Currently I do little with short stories or movie making though music still influences my work … I sometimes listen to music as I walk along the Charles with my camera.  Perhaps this New England winter, I will jump back into the fiction.  Meanwhile, this late summer morning, I find myself pondering the fact that while audio certainly affects image perception, the flipside is also true.  Visuals influence our perception of audio.

Leaf by the Charles River

Yes, there is some connection to recent Sunday musings where I lamented that, in today’s politics, glossy images distract from listening to candidates’ words.  Nothing novel there – just look at the 1960 Kennedy/Nixon debate where television viewers apparently thought the inexperienced yet highly telegenic Kennedy won the debate while radio listeners thought the less telegenic, more experienced Nixon won.  Politics aside, consider pharmaceutical ads especially the ones that air during the evening news and other programs associated with older viewers.  The companies have to share the side effects associated with the drug being advertised.  Notice how the spoken words (e.g. … this drug may cause this that or the other thing and in rare cases lead to death …)  are paired with images of happy people of all ages meandering — sometimes slowly but always with a smile — along beaches, up mountains, through open-air markets, with a dog or two in tow.  Hope is evoked so powerfully, visually that it becomes easy to let words of risk go in one ear and out the other.  In the end, the images convey the message.  Words become irrelevant.

Fallen

Of course, this is nothing new.  Peoples’ visual and auditory responses and perceptions have been manipulated throughout human history, as a means to some end.  I guess that’s what I am struggling with right now.  When I watch a movie or movie trailer or attend a concert or an art exhibit or even a religious service, I am open to being manipulated.  I await the melding of music, words and images to make me experience a story.  But it’s when that manipulation happens in other contexts that I become wary and quite frankly on occasion angry.  Artistically, I am looking forward to exploring these ideas in both my photography and writing, and to better understand how other artists use these ideas and I don’t mean in a Wag the Dog kind of way.

 

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… in the kitchen, of course.

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Here are a few of the things inspiring me of late:

Sunlight shining through Japanese Maple leaves.

Japanese Noh robes as described in the book, Patterns and Poetry.

And always, always, always, trees –  their green leaves, bare branches and beautiful barks.

 

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