I’m writing this ahead of the publication date. I’ll remind people of that once in a while so that I’m not deceiving anyone. Anyway, as I write this, it’s Sunday. Sunday evening, to be exact.
That makes writing difficult or, rather, it makes for difficult writing because I don’t know what relevant event might have happened between now and when this post will go live five days from now. Plus, commenting on something that is current now but people will have forgotten in five days also poses a risk; the risk of me looking like I’m slow reacting to stuff.
On the plus side, it forces me to avoid topical subjects that might be contentious. So, what can I write about? Let’s see . . . Leanne Cole had a post linking a YouTube video of a BBC interview with Ansel Adams.
Well worth watching for photographers but even non-photographers could learn a thing or two from listening to the interview. As an amateur photographer, there are two things Mr. Adams said that I know, live, and practice.
“None of my photos are realistic.” This particular comment addresses the fact there’s a difference between what the eyes see and what the brain experiences. A bit later, he expands on the idea (I’m paraphrasing a bit here): think of the negative as a composer writing a score. The photograph is the performance of that score and it varies from performer to performer. Two people can develop the same negative and get very different photographs.
As it turns out, he donated his negatives to an art school specifically with the anticipation of seeing what students would come up with. He also was excited about the possibility offered by the (then new) digital medium.
I mention all this because I occasionally get comments about photos not being “realistic” or not representing the scene in high fidelity. For that, Mr. Adams also had an answer. The processed photograph is the representation of both what the photographer saw and what the scene before them made them feel. It’s a representation of what the mind’s eye saw and not just documenting what was there.
Really, it’s a fascinating interview because what he says is applicable to nearly everything we do as humans, be it work or play. I certainly see it as applying to my photography, but also to my other hobby, writing.
And now, the photo:
That’s a restaurant in — obviously — Pensacola, Florida, where we found an excellent fish sandwich meal. So good, in fact, that we would drive the distance from Navarre to eat there. Occasionally, we’d order out so we could pick it up on the way back to the place we were renting. I don’t remember the exact sandwich but I’m betting it’s the Grouper Sandwich. HERE’s the menu.
I’ve mentioned before that I like the relationship between Willy and Ethel . . . here’s another example of why . . .
The self-imposed pressure of naming my doodles is really getting to me. I mean, they are nonsensical scribbling made primarily for the visual impact as opposed to conveying a deep philosophical or even shallow and banal meaning.
Still, once I said I would name them, I can’t not do so. Here’s today’s effort to that end.
And . . . that’s it
Some of these posts will likely be longer as the mood hits me, but most will be thus; short, uninteresting, bland, and relentless.
You can read about Project 313 HERE.
That’s it. This post has ended . . . except for the stuff below.
Note: if you are not reading this blog post at DisperserTracks.com, know that it has been copied without permission, and likely is being used by someone with nefarious intention, like attracting you to a malware-infested website. Could be they also torture small mammals.
Please, if you are considering bestowing me recognition beyond commenting below, refrain from doing so. I will decline blogger-to-blogger awards. I appreciate the intent behind it, but I prefer a comment thanking me for turning you away from a life of crime, religion, or making you a better person in some other way. That would mean something to me.
If you wish to know more, please read below.
Note: to those who may click on “like”, or rate the post; if you do not hear from me, know that I am sincerely appreciative, and I thank you for noticing what I do.
. . . my FP ward . . . chieken shit.
Finally, if you interpret anything on this blog as me asking or wanting pity, sympathy, or complaining about my life, or asking for help and advice, know you’re likely missing my subtle mix of irony, sarcasm, and humor.