fledge capable of flying, from Middle English flegge, from Old English -flycge; akin to Old High German flucki capable of flying,
Old English flEogan to fly -- more at FLY
intransitive verb, of a young bird : to acquire the feathers necessary for flight or independent activity

Friday, February 22, 2008

Day 30 +1

Well, what did I learn from this exercise? I know I didn't learn how to fix the white balance on the new camera. I think Sarah is and will remain a better photographer than me (she makes a leak in the roof look good. If I can have big juicy golden drops rolling down my walls, I want a leaky roof, too). I know that I'm not much of a stylist. I think, for me, there is so much grace and humor in the world that it's really superfluous for me to take the time to pose blueberries. Not to say that I'm not a poser. But then I feel like such a poser. I think I have a journalist's mind's eye. Or eye's mind. Or whatever the anatomy should be.  I want a story. I look across my photos and ask, "Is that 1000 words?" Pretty isn't enough: I want a story. I don't think I have a photo that I really like in these 30 days. I think my best came right on Day 1 with Jesus Van Man or these two sisters. But I didn't capture much eye candy this past month, did I? I forewent plenty of pretty sunsets, rocky cliffs plunging into blue waters and bright, bright blooms in January, your basic SoCal fare, in favor of men with garment bags and little dogs. When I shoot my girl, I think I do get eye candy. Must be the love. Must be something to that. And the minutia of me? I can't think of a single good reason to ever photograph my feet, so I won't. Pinky swear. You got three photos at my kitchen sink, so get excited.

Confession: I know my stuff. Correction: I used to know my stuff. I have the stop bath stains on my prom dress to prove it (and I went into the dark room during prom to develop film and not to, uh, ... that's how serious I was about my craft). I have a journalism degree from Indiana University and I was a hot-shot shooter on campus. No lie. And I had every intention of becoming a journalist/photojournalist. I had every intention and maybe some talent, but not the ambition or cajones. I see the work of those I knew, lesser shooters, all over the place. They have made careers and far surpassed my ability, because they had more ambition and more guts. 

When I had to pay the rent with income from something other than writing and shooting, I left my equipment at my folk's house. Photography could no more be a hobby for me than I could "be friends" with an old love. So, I probably did not put a SLR camera in my hands for 15 years.
Now, however, I think I've grown up, maybe. I think I can be friends with photography. I can enjoy it without thinking "what might have been". Not to say I don't get really giddy when I get a good shot. And when my old boyfriend calls me on my birthday, I still giggle a lot. But it's okay. We're friends.

(Oh, and Sarah, no, this 30 days wasn't work. You should see that in some of the quality. But I think this was a good exercise in mindfulness. I think it's a good mindset to be in when you look around and ask, Where's the beauty? Where's the humor? Is there symmetry? Is there a story? Is there irony? Where is joy? Where's the light? What's that? A whale! Cool.)


Eva said...

Long text - long comment..;):
My favourite picture is day 18.5. It wasn't love at first sight, but somehow ist kept popping up in my mind. And as I was reading your text I suddenly knew why:
because I can SEE your girl SING!
It's not like seeing a picture of someone singing, no... it's more like being there an hearing her. Or maybe even like instantly knowing, what you want to say by this. (uff.. difficult to eyplain...but I'll try my best..:)
So that's what it is all about, isn't it? Getting to somebodys mind (or soul or heart...or whatever..-.. Maybe even sense of beauty, which fortunatly still is in the eye of the beholder) And laughing with an old love always shows, you weren't that wrong..;)

stinkypeteandcompany said...

Nancy, my love, you are entirely too good to me (and not nearly good enough to yourself).
I have skulked about your "30 days", living your California life vicariously, wanting kitchy devil ducks and Barney's sales, lusting funky wash-o-mats and beaches sprinkled with volleyballs like fairydust.
That, dear Nance, is what makes a super shooter. Life balance - not white balance.
(as an aside: I am clearly, painfully still figuring out the WB and all that other f nonsense and aperature gunk on my own "big girl" camera ;) because I, most assuredly, do not know my stuff.)
lusting ducks in the NE,

Dibabo said...

"That, dear Nance, is what makes a super shooter. Life balance - not white balance."

Thank you, Sarah.

No better words to find.


Nic said...

You have summed me up in eight words: "Now, however, I think I've grown up, maybe."


Personally, I think you've got photojournalist written all over this blog. Perhaps you could borrow some cojones and tackle the profession?--but in the meantime, I'm richer for the exposure to this bit of your talent. So grazie.


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