Back To Work We Go

PotD

Back To Work We Go

January 4, 2016

I put my heart and my soul into my work and have lost my mind in the process.—Vincent Van Gogh

Work. Ugh. Welcome to the first Monday of 2016, the day we bid a fond farewell to some of our readers who joined us over the break but must now leave us in favor of gainful employment that frowns upon them spending time with pleasures such as this. It’s a whopping 27 degrees in Indianapolis as I write this and scattered snow showers across the city are threatening to make a mess of everyone’s first commute of the year. We’re getting off to such a great start, aren’t we?

Coffee. Thankfully, we’ve acquired a fair amount of that deliciously roasted bean over the past month. I’m not sure exactly how that happened, but I’m not complaining and it’s coming in especially handy this morning. Kat and I both crashed early last night, but the down side of that is we were up earlier than usual. Work without coffee would be inhumane, in my opinion. I’m fortunate to have never been in a situation where I couldn’t have a cup nearby. I know not everyone can, though, and for those people I truly feel sorry.

I also feel sorry for school teachers who are returning to the classroom this morning. I remember the trepidation Mother always felt when returning after the holiday break. Teachers don’t really get time off. When they’re not at school, they’re doing other adult things such as entertaining family which requires cleaning house and catching up on the piles of laundry that have been ignored all semester. The holidays were never that much of a mental break and today teachers get to welcome back all those darling little demons who have been running around wild the past two weeks. Teachers should get hazardous duty pay the first three days of this week. Be sure they’ll earn it.

Getting back to work after such a long period is never easy. Even if one was technically at work through the whole month of December, the atmosphere following Thanksgiving is different than the other eleven months. Despite the stress of working to complete year-end goals, there is still a sense of frivolity and an absence of the serious tones that dominate the rest of the year. At least, for most people that is the case. For those whose companies completely shuttered on December 31, you have our sympathies.

Here, too, we’re getting back to our normal schedule with some new additions. In case you’ve not already noticed, we’re doing more than just a single post each day. We’re keeping a very close eye on events in fashion, advertising, and music. We’ve only done one extra article per day over the weekend, and for weekends and holidays that will be the new norm. During the week, though, we’ll add articles as we feel appropriate. Fashion is barreling toward February’s Ready-To-Wear runway season, advertising’s eyes are on the Super Bowl ads, and there’s a long list of artists ready to release new albums in the first quarter. We’re watching it all and will comment where we feel we have something valuable to add to the conversation.

So, back to work we go. Bundle up, buckle in, and enjoy the ride!

PotD

Sunday Of Sanctity

January 3, 2016

My mother always kept library books in the house, and one rainy Sunday afternoon – this was before television, and we didn’t even have a radio – I picked up a book to look at the pictures and discovered I was reading and enjoying what I read.—Beverly Cleary

Growing up in the home of a Southern Baptist minister meant Sundays were anything but calm or quiet. There was a fairly precise schedule to the day: Up at 7, showers, dressed, breakfast, family devotions, all before 8:30 in the morning. There would be Sunday School, then church, then around 6 or so in the evening, depending on the time of year, Training Union, which became Church Training in the 70s, then evening services, then often a rather pointless choir rehearsal and sometimes a youth activity. The day was full.

What little “down time” there was on a Sunday came in that brief period after lunch (which Mother typically had prepared for dining as soon after the service as possible) and the snack that passed as dinner before heading out to church again. This time was for napping. Always. No excuses. Interruptions were frowned upon. Typically, Poppa would sit in his recliner, leaf through the local paper a bit, maybe turn on a football game that he wouldn’t watch, the fall sound asleep. Mother would go to their room and sleep while Squirt and I were given the instruction to, at the very least, stay quiet.

Such a respite only came on Sundays and was almost as sacred as the services on either end of the day. Poppa loathed allowing anyone to schedule anything on Sunday afternoon and on the rare occasion he was forced to do so one could be certain that his mood would not be as pleasant and accommodating as normal. Poppa’s take was that if God rested on Sunday, certainly he meant for us to take a couple of hours to do the same.

As I grew older and moved away from home, my Sunday habits changed. My view of church changed rather dramatically and Sunday became a day that was given to the very respite Poppa tried to squeeze into a couple of hours. I’d start with the Sunday edition of the New York Times, coming up for air and a coffee refill between articles. Brunch back then was less of a social gathering and more of a way to quiet the growing rumble in the stomach without actually admitting that half the day was already gone. I acquired my father’s habit of sitting in a recliner, turning on the football game, and promptly falling asleep. Sunday evenings were for a quiet dinner, maybe some cuddling, reading, or, more likely, laundry so we’d have something clean to wear the next morning.

Now, Sundays are more complicated, less quiet, and too often frustrating. There are too many people who can only shoot on Sundays. The local paper rarely holds any information I’ve not already seen online and even the long-form enticement of the Times isn’t as enjoyable as it once was. I do still hold to brunch because, damn it, I’m not cooking anything before 10:00 if it can be avoided. Laundry is still a must, and so is reading, but increasingly that reading is done through some form of digital media, whether the Kindle or this large-screened smartphone I carry.

The sanctity of Sunday is largely gone now. Kat is frequently at the salon, which means I’m stuck with the kids (or they’re stuck with me). Having time to read quietly means getting up about the same time the party people are getting home. I can make the kids wait for brunch, but they want lunch an hour later and a large snack an hour after that. Sunday afternoon nap? My body aches for one, especially after getting up so early, but the kids would likely burn down the house if I dozed for even a minute. Peace comes only after they’re in bed for the night and by that time I’m rather ready for bed myself.

I understand now, more than ever, the value of a quiet, thoughtful, Sunday. I’m hoping that as the children get older we can hand them a good book and not see them for a couple of hours, knowing they are being sufficiently entertained and, perhaps, even learning something. I can dream. I can hope. I have a library card and I’m not afraid to use it.

We need to allow ourselves downtime; just one day when we don’t intrude on others, nor they on us. May we have one day, please, that is a little more void of noise and a little more contemplative. We need time to re-asses our world, our place in it, and then get our shit together before tackling another week. Not allowing for some sanctity on Sunday is a fast trip to spending one’s vacation either in rehab or the mental health center, and there’s already a shortage of space at both.

Take some time. Breathe. Read. I’ll try to do the same, right after I fix brunch for these heathens.

Photography

Photo Challenge: Should You Do One?

January 2, 2016

The only use of an obstacle is to be overcome. All that an obstacle does with brave men is, not to frighten them, but to challenge them.—Woodrow Wilson

A sure sign that we’re starting a new year is the fact that my email inbox and social media feeds are full of invitations to participate in various photo challenges. Some are monthly, some are weekly, and some overly-ambitious souls think I might be interested in a daily challenge. No, I’m not. I don’t necessarily have anything against a good photo challenge, but I do think there are considerations one should make before committing so such a thing.

Within my overly abundant archives of photographs, I maintain a folder labeled “Random.” Into the “Random” folder goes all the images that I capture while out wandering about, not necessarily looking for anything in particular. These are typically landscape and architecture shots where I see something unusual, out of place, humorous, or, on rare occasion, uniquely lit by catching the sun at just the right moment. There won’t be enough to make a series or expound upon at length, but one image that, hopefully, says something significant. This folder is very full.

Given the bulk of my “Random” folder, I’m not quick to take on any projects that are unlikely to do more than add content to that already voluminous catalog. I’m not lacking for inspiration and have an abundant supply of concepts. What I need is time and willing accomplices, which are not things a photo challenge can provide. However, for those who are tempted to participate in a photo challenge, we have some recommendations.

Find a photo challenge that actually challenges you.

Not all photo challenges are created equal. Some are extremely difficult to fulfill. Some are very narrow and limited in their topic range. Before signing up, take a careful look and see if the challenge matches your interests and the time you have available. Personally, if I were going to do a challenge, I would likely consider something broad and creative, such as the Dogwood Photography 52 Week Photography Challenge.

Make sure you actually have time to complete the challenge.

All our lives are busy and going out looking for photos to meet a specific challenge can sometimes take several hours out of a schedule. Look carefully at the topics and see if you have time to actually chase down the things on the list. The more specific the list, the more challenging the time factor is likely to be, even if everything on the list is supposed to be “common household items.” Not everyone keeps apple cider vinegar on hand, for example.

Choose a challenge that interests you.

One certain path to failure would be for me to sign up for a photo challenge involving flowers. While I like flowers, chasing them down for a single photo doesn’t inspire me like it might inspire others. Some photo challenges are open enough to match a variety of interests, which is great. More specific challenges, however, should be approached with careful consideration.

Consider the equipment necessary to complete the challenge.

A photo challenge that explores the use of slaved strobes could be really interesting and fun, unless one doesn’t have slave strobes or extra stands. I’ve seen a few macro challenges running around as well, but if one doesn’t have a good macro lens is such a challenge a good match? Sure, one could go out and purchase the additional equipment, but if that equipment isn’t going to actually pay for itself is it worth the expense? Don’t take up a challenge that leaves you with equipment you’ll not use again.

What modifications are possible?

A creative photo challenge, such as the one from Dogwood, gives photographers and students plenty of space to modify the challenge to fit their own particular style of photography. Challenges that result in everyone having pictures of identical items or carefully curated themes can be great for beginners, but not so much for more advanced photographers.

At the end of any good photo challenge, one should be able to present a reasonable collection of photographs that have the potential of becoming part of one’s portfolio, or, at least, feel they have learned something positive from the experience. I think such events can be most helpful for those who understand the basics of their camera but don’t have a lot of experience actually shooting. If so inclined, take a look around. There are dozens of new photo challenges starting this week. Find one that works for you and jump in!

PotD / Social Commentary

Surviving In 2016

January 2, 2016

We don’t develop courage by being happy every day. We develop it by surviving difficult times and challenging adversity.—Barbara de Angelis

Model: Sarah Thomas

Welcome to the real 2016. January 1 doesn’t count; it’s that in-between days when people my age and older worry about writing the wrong year on checks while our children and grandchildren stand by our sides asking, “What’s a check?” January 1 is for parades and football and corned beef if you’re in the Midwest, hog jowl or fat back if you’re in the South. January 1 isn’t a real day.

Today, however, is quite real. Bills are due, including rent in many cases. You may have to go to work. Even if you have today off, since it’s Saturday, there are still things to do such as taking down the damn Christmas tree and tossing a tangled jumble of lights into the closet. Today, the holidays are officially over and the world is obligated to get back to the hectic rat race it left back in November. What will we do, however shall we survive? Fortunately, I have some solutions.

Stay warm.

I am amazed that, every year, people are severely crippled or die due to exposure. I’m not necessarily talking about homeless people, either, though that’s definitely a problem. People who know better and have sufficient means to protect themselves seem to hit January and think that Spring must be right around the corner. Wrong. Especially this year. We’ve got at least three months of cold starting us out here and the rest of the year is really going to suck if you lose extremities because you didn’t take care of yourself. Gloves. Hats. Heavy coats. They’re not just for the holidays, folks. Wear them. Surviving the year starts with staying alive.

Avoid politics (and politicians) whenever possible.

This is a presidential election year and all indications point toward this being one of the most ridiculously stupid campaigns ever. This year’s politicians are totally incapable of telling the truth about anything. Some of them can’t even get their own names correct, “Ted.” The only means of survival is to shut them down, turn them off, and vote for the one least likely to behave like a complete asshole when they reach office. Even worse, though, are people who ardently, feverishly, support a candidate. They will fill your Facebook timeline with some of the most ridiculous article links ever conceived. Unfollow them. Block them if they start getting too pushy. Pay no attention to the slime oozing behind the curtain. Turn them off. Surviving doesn’t mean surrendering your dignity.

Fight terror and violence by loving everyone.

After rampant wandering politicians, the biggest threat the United States faces this year is domestic violence and terrorism. The are some very stupid people out there who mistakenly believe that hate is justified by their religion and violence of some form is an acceptable answer. Nothing could possibly be more wrong. In response to these very misguided individuals, we can have only one response: love everyone. We really shouldn’t be threatened with violence or terrorism to do this, but if we want to shut down our biggest threats to national and personal security, loving each other is our only choice. That means loving each other regardless of religious affiliation, or race, or sexual orientation, or marital status, or whether they watch Fox News. The Beatles gave us the answer long ago: All you need is love.

Pay cash, save as much as possible.

We’ve been monitoring comments by different economists all year and, while they rarely agree on anything, it seems rather certain that we’re heading toward yet another global recession. Blame China. No, it’s not all their fault, but they make a much-too-obvious scapegoat. This is not the year to be running up a lot of unnecessary debt, especially not high-interest credit card debt, which is never a good idea in the first place. This year, when Samuel L. Jackson asks, “What’s in your wallet?” the answer needs to be, “Cash.” With a recession looming, I wouldn’t even trust banks enough to use a debit card. Sure, it’s not a convenient approach by any means, but it could save your ass when the next recession hits. Surviving means save as much as you can, keep as much as you can out of the hands of big banks.

Take more pictures: hire a professional.

For all the talk about Instagram and other online photo sharing applications, the number of good photographs, the ones worth handing down and saving for future generations, are declining. Why? Because you’re not paying for them. You’re taking lousy selfies instead of hiring a professional and what you’re getting in return is just digital trash. 98% of the photographs taken with cell phones are not worth preserving. Sure, our services are not inexpensive, but the value of a professional photograph grows with time, unlike the garbage on your phone that can disappear in an instant if someone spills a glass of water. Having professional, printed photographs are the best way to preserve your memories.

I can’t promise anyone a good year. There are a lot of obstacles that, quite honestly, have me a bit frightened. We cannot see the future, but we can prepare for the most obvious possibilities. Be safe out there, kids. Love each other. Spend wisely. Book your photo session now. Surviving 2016 doesn’t need to be difficult; let’s do this together!

Studio News

2016: A Fresh Start

January 1, 2016

Start by doing what’s necessary; then do what’s possible; and suddenly you are doing the impossible.—Francis of Assisi

Somehow, we did it! A new year, a new start for the website with a new layout and design that we hope will facilitate more pictures and more information. A lot of things have changed as we have attempted to streamline the experience a little better and make it more responsive to those of you who can’t visit every day and especially those who view us on mobile devices. Let’s hit a few of the highlights so you’ll know what to expect this year.

Everything on one page … sort of.

Good-bye menu. This year’s new start begins with a single-page layout that allows mobile users to access different sections just by scrolling. This is significant because traditional web design has always held that desktop users don’t like to scroll and content should be kept, “above the fold.” Mbile users respond differently, though, and since an increasing number of people access the site via mobile devices we made the change to accomodate them.

Expanded portfolios.

How many pictures should a photographer display in their online portfolios? Almost everyone you ask is going to give a different answer. We’ve limited the number the past couple of years on the belief that simple was better. Apparently, we were wrong, so long as the means of navigation isn’t complicated. The new layout puts all the portfolios in one place for easy acess. Note: these are still going to look best on a larger desktop monitor; that’s not going to change. However, everything about them should be improved.

Expanded content.

More than just a Photo of the Day, we will be including additional content addressing topics related to fashion, advertising, and photography. For those who like charles’ fashion week coverage, this should be especially exciting. Not that we plan on having too many posts each day, but this would be a very good time to subscribe. Check the link in the sidebar.

Service pricing.

Kat and I have debated adding this information for a couple of years and this year she won. Services and basic pricing are listed just below the portfolios. Nope, we’re not cheap, but at the same time we’re a long way from being at the top end of unreasonable. This isn’t to say we won’t run sales or make deals, mind you, but at least it gives everyone a reference point.

Today is a new start in a lot of ways for a lot of different people. This year is already a switch from 2015, even though it’s only a few hours’ old. We hope you like the changes and will share the new look with your friends. And again,if you want to keep up, we really recommend that you subscribe now.

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PotD

8 Solutions To Lousy Sex

November 27, 2015

I haven’t trusted polls since I read that 62% of women had affairs during their lunch hour. I’ve never met a woman in my life who would give up lunch for sex.—Erma Bombeck

Move over, Cosmo, you’re not the only website who can use cheap and tawdry sex headlines to get people’s attention. The difference between our list and those you’ll find elsewhere, though, is that we’ve undertaken years of personal research so we could offer solutions by telling you, with expert authority, what not to do. My only caveat here is that if you are related to me, especially if you’re one of my sons, STOP READING NOW! There are some things family doesn’t need to know.

As for today’s picture, this one is a little over ten years old and remains one of my favorites from when I first moved to Indianapolis. Lovely, open people like this just don’t come along too terribly often and once she moved on there wasn’t anyone to fill the void she left. C’est la vie.

Meanwhile, we have a silly list to which we must attend, which, if nothing else, is better than standing in some stupid line out in the freezing cold:

8 Solutions To Lousy Sex

Stop getting out of bed so damn early to go shopping.
Seriously, where are your priorities? You could actually be in bed, snuggled up with the one you love, ticking that special spot they love, leading up to the best sex ever. But no, instead you are totally wasting your time out in the cold standing in some stupid line and even if your lover is right there with you, this is not sexy and not romantic in any way, shape or form. Geeze. Loser.

Cut back on the food you know gives you gas.
Flatulence is a natural bodily function and to some extent we can’t keep it from happening. However, when you load up with buffalo wings, cheese sauce and cheap beer, what do you think is going to happen? All that garbage you just ate is like shaking up a soda bottle; the gas is going to explode! Why would anyone want to get close when they know that’s going to happen? Why would you even want to do that to yourself? Gross.

For all that is holy, try taking a shower.
While the amount of grooming one does is totally a personal matter, being clean is not and is definitely a reason for lousy sex. In fact, your smell may be keeping you from having any sex at all. Worth noting: this includes those of you who apparently bath in cologne. Stop. It’s not attractive. The best fragrance with which you can greet your lover is fresh soap. Give it a try sometime.

Stop trying all the positions you see on Pornhub.
You do realize porn sex is different from real-world sex, don’t you? Those crazy positions they get in are designed to give the camera a better angle and more light, not for comfort. If you need help with positions, perhaps you should add the Kama Sutra or similar books to your holiday shopping list. Better yet, grab them online and have them shipped so you’re not seen carrying them around in a store; that can be a bit creepy.

Try A Little Tenderness.
Careful, things are rather sensitive down there! Some of the most embarrassing emergency room visits come from putting something down there that doesn’t belong, and yes, that includes hot food. If you’re that damn hungry get a plate. For both men and women, the skin in the groin area is extremely sensitive and no, it is not sexy when you put something stupid down there. This includes champagne and liquor. Don’t do it.

Pay attention to what you’re doing.
I never have understood people who try to watch television or text on their phones while having sex. If you’re that disengaged from that act, you’re not going to have a good time; you’re just going through the motions. Actually paying attention to your lover not only helps the sex, the entire relationship benefits. Explore. Find those auto-erogenous areas above the waist. See how much things improve.

Stay healthy.
No one wants to have sex with a partner who is coughing up a lung or gasping for breath after three minutes. In case you’ve not figured it out yet (and some of you haven’t), sex is an extremely physical activity. Being healthy and in shape factors significantly in your ability to have good, enjoyable sex. And yes, this includes not being overweight. Why? Strenuous physical activity puts stress on your heart. Dying during sex is not acceptable.

Try using a real, live partner every once in a while.
Please tell me I don’t need to explain the benefits of this one. Seriously, though, it’s not going to happen if you don’t get out of that chair, away from in front of the computer, and try meeting people. Clean up. Act nice. Don’t be a douchebag. This is allegedly the time of year for miracles and you’re due. You can thank me later.

We probably could have made this list a lot longer, and I certainly know some people who could use the instruction. I don’t want to overwhelm you, though. Start with these and perhaps we can add more later, when you’re ready. Who knows, you might start the new year happy.

PotD

8 Reasons To Steal The Bed Covers

November 25, 2015

The bed is a bundle of paradoxes: we go to it with reluctance, yet we quit it with regret; we make up our minds every night to leave it early, but we make up our bodies every morning to keep it late.—Ogden Nash

For the larger part of this year, I assumed I had completely lost this series. The hard drive on which it was originally saved had decided it didn’t want to work with the operating system on the computer. There weren’t a huge number of pictures on there, but there were some that I considered quite lovely, this one among them. Fortunately, after we upgraded systems last month, the drive was magically readable again! Not sure how that happens, but I’m not complaining.

Another thing I lose often is the covers. Someone I know tends to be a cover hog and since one tends to react instinctively when asleep I just let her have them. I am not going to risk upsetting the Marine while she sleeps; somehow, I imagine that ending rather badly for me. When winter hits, beds become the battlefield of relationships and whoever loses either freezes or sleeps on the couch. We don’t want you sleeping on the couch, so that’s why we have today’s list.

8 Reasons To Steal The Bed Covers

You have to get up first in the morning.
Whoever has to get up first deserves to go to sleep first and have the longer uninterrupted sleep, right? The person on the other side of the bed can have the covers during that extra five or ten minutes they stay in bed each morning. You, on the other hand, have to get up and get busy. You deserve to have the covers during the night.

If someone would snuggle more you wouldn’t need the covers.
Let’s face it: body heat is a wonderful thing to share during the winter. Unfortunately, a lot of people have difficulty snuggling; they keep rolling over to the other side of the bed, leaving you alone and cold. Therefore, you deserve the covers to punish them for not being more intimate during a time in your life when what you really need is an all-night hug.

Without the covers, your cold feet go onto your lover’s back.
Our extremities are what lose heat first, even in bed, and that means one’s feet are going to get cold quickly when deprived of the covers. Cold feet instinctively migrate all on their own toward the nearest heat source, which is typically the cover hog’s backside. If they don’t want to be jolted awake by your cold feet, they need to share the covers.

Covers keep you from becoming ill.
Why should you have the covers? Because you’re a delicate flower who is going to become terribly, horribly, and ferociously ill if you get too cold at night. If you’re sick, then that’s definitely going to ruin all those wonderful winter plans you had, including that visit to the in-laws over the holidays. Does your significant other really want you ill over the holidays? Of course not!

You snore louder when you’re cold.
Not that we’re actually admitting that we snore, because you’ve never heard you snore; but, you’re pretty sure that if you were going to snore it would definitely be worse when you are cold. The louder you snore, the less sleep everyone else gets, including the pets. Ask your significant other if they really want to put up with a grumpy Mr. Snickety Lemons in the morning.

You’re grumpy when you don’t get enough sleep.
You need your eight hours of sleep each night or else you’re going to be an unbearable best the next morning. You take going to bed rather seriously and follow a precise routine to make sure you get the optimum amount of rest possible. When your partner steals the covers, though, that upsets the delicate balance you’ve created and you cannot be held responsible if salt somehow winds up in the coffee the next morning.

There are other blankets in the closet, damn it.
You have a big bed and the covers just barely fit over the whole thing even when there is no one under them. So, it just seems logical that your significant other would just grab their own blanket from the closet and let that solve the problem. Well, unless they grab the 115-year-old quilet that your great-great-grandmother handstiched together with her bare hands. That one’s yours; they’d best leave it alone.

No one’s getting sex as long as you are cold.
Science has proven that it is almost impossible to become sexually arounsed when one’s external temperature is below a point of reasonable comfort. If your partner has any plans for being even the least bit fiesty, they’d better let you have those covers. Otherwise, they can just keep those grabby little paws to themselves.

See, you’re totally justified in demanding the covers every night. Now, you just need to make sure that your lover actually sees this list before you go to bed. Maybe if you share it to their Facebook wall and tag their mother that will work. You know the mom-in-law understands.

pop culture / PotD

6 Reasons To Never Give Up

November 24, 2015

The secret of our success is that we never, never give up.—Wilma Mankiller, Principle Chief of the Cherokee, 1985-1995

Today’s picture is rarely posted because we typically go with the more familiar frame that resembles the famous Rosie the Riveter illustration from World War II. In some ways, though, I prefer this to the original because it demonstrates that strong and independent women don’t stop being attractive and sexy. That never give up attitude has its own form of attraction that is accentuated in the full-length pose. Jennifer Baxter did a great job on the body art, too, don’t you think?

This time of year, a lot of people look at what hasn’t been accomplished and give up. Actually, this time of year, a lot of people have difficulty just getting out of bed. When the sun doesn’t even start coming up until you’re already half-way through your morning, it screws with one’s sense of place and time. After fighting the same emotions day in and day out, persevering becomes a tremendous challenge. That’s why we have today’s list.

6 Reasons To Never Give Up

Plenty of people didn’t succeed on their first try; giving up removes the opportunity to win.
Michael Jordan was cut from his high school basketball team. Julia Child didn’t start cooking until she was in her mid-30s. Dr. Ruth Westheimer survived the Holocaust, immigrated to the US, raised a family, and didn’t even start talking about sex until she was in her 50s. Keep trying. Amazing things are yet to happen.

You can’t see the future; giving up denies you the victory right around the corner.
There are no crystal balls. Horoscopes are ineffective. That line about once a loser always a loser? Absolute bullshit. There’s no giant carrot dangling in front of us, but that doesn’t mean that the reward isn’t waiting for us to get there. Keep going. You’re almost there.

There’s only one you; giving up leaves a void no one else can fill.
What you do, your voice, your presence in the universe is wholly unique and the universe relies on you being here, being you, to make everything complete. No one can take your place. No one else has your perspective. You are the one piece to the puzzle that makes the picture complete.

No one is going to just hand you success; giving up takes you out of contention.
You cannot win the race you haven’t run. While that sounds like a rather simple platitude, the reality is that success doesn’t just show up at the front door after you’ve been sitting on your ass all day. Imagine the futility of planting a garden but never watering it. If you want the food, if you want the car, if you want anything, you have to get up and go get it; life doesn’t have an at-home delivery service.

Darkness doesn’t last forever; giving up makes you blind to the sunrise yet to come.
There are days when life seems to have been going on for so very, very long without any noticeable progress and you just want to go back to bed and sleep all day. Darkness has a way of making us think that it is going to last forever, but it lies. Sunrise is inevitable, but one has to stay awake long enough to see it. Now is not the time for a nap.

You are setting an example; when you give up, you teach others to give up as well.
One doesn’t have to be famous or a parent or in a position of authority to be a role model. No matter who you are, no matter how isolated you may feel, someone is watching you and is patterning their own life after yours. The responsibility we have to persevere is tremendous. Sometimes what ends up making the biggest difference is the legacy we leave for someone else to follow. Your legacy has yet to be written.

It’s Tuesday and this is a short week. You’ve got this. Get up, get dressed and make things happen!

Note: After all that talk I need to make one point very clear: if you even think you may be suffering from any form of depression, please seek professional help. Feeling unmotivated, frustrated with a current situation, or just tired from working too long without a break are situations we can conquer on our own; depression is not. Depression is a disease that kills too many people. Please, get help.

Art / Music / pop culture / PotD

5 Memories From Last Summer

November 23, 2015

charles i. letbetter - 5 Things About Last Summer

We cannot stop the winter or the summer from coming. We cannot stop the spring or the fall or make them other than they are. They are gifts from the universe that we cannot refuse. But we can choose what we will contribute to life when each arrives.—Gary Zukav

Technically, this isn’t the best photo I’ve ever taken, even though it’s one of my favorites. Summer photos are usually brighter and the fact that the whole photo is set on a diagonal slant is a bit unnerving to the eyes. The location had limitations that prevented me from shooting from a better position, though, and working with a diagonal frame was the only way to capture the reflection with the equipment I had available.

I don’t know how things are where you live, but we’re shivering in our shoes this morning with a wind chill of 20° F. I know many of us in the North had our first significant snowfall this weekend and while some find that exciting, most of us are less than thrilled. Where did that extended summer go? Summer is always full of memories, and this one was no exception, so let’s take a look at five things from this summer that we really shouldn’t forget.

US Wins Women’s FIFA World Cup
Did we see that coming? No, not really. We wanted it to happen, but when it comes to FIFA level play, the US just hasn’t had the best luck in the past. Routing Japan 5-2 was totally unexpected unless one happens to be a die-hard supporter of the team. This was one of the best feel-good moments of the summer.

Misty Copeland Promoted to Principal Ballerina at American Ballet Theater
This just doesn’t happen; black women don’t become principals in American ballet. One of the longest-standing bastions of racist tradition in the US fell with a thundering crash when Misty Copeland was promoted to Principal Ballerina this past June. Her promotion not only opens the door of diversity in American ballet but gives hope to millions of little girls in pink tights and toe shoes all across the country. Here’s a sample.

Inside Out Hit Theaters
There were lots of movies that had a bigger box office this summer, but none will have a larger long-term effect than this animated movie from Disney/Pixar that, more than anything, helps kids better understand what emotions are and the importance of feelings. The price of a movie ticket and popcorn is likely the cheapest source of therapy this generation will ever experience.

Shut Up And Dance was the feel-good song of the summer
Again, it wasn’t the biggest seller of the summer, but Walk The Moon’s catching song and its unusual video was the one song that brought multiple generations onto the dance floor to strut their stuff. My youngest son introduced me to the song and it’s been on my playlists ever since. Even now, the song is still charting.

Spending Time With Family
This is why we love summer; those moments in the park, or the pool, or the lake, or hiking, or whatever brings your family together. While school is in session, everyone is going their own direction with a dozen different activities, but summer gives us time to do things together, things we’ll remember the rest of our lives. We went traveled, spent time with extended family, and cooked food outside over fire. There are so many pictures I’m still not done editing them all. This is how summer should be.

I can’t keep the cold from coming any more than I can keep my old bones from hurting, but we can keep the memories of summer alive and maybe, just maybe, that will help keep us warm on the inside a little bit longer.

pop culture / PotD

The Final Countdown(s)

November 22, 2015

I refuse to accept the view that mankind is so tragically bound to the starless midnight of racism and war that the bright daybreak of peace and brotherhood can never become a reality… I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word.—Martin Luther King, Jr.

We’re hurtling toward the end of the year and that means we only have ten, count ’em, #POTD posts left before we take our December break. So, we’re going to spend these final few days with pictures that we weren’t able to make fit anywhere else and counting down a number of things we think are fun and important.

There’s no real cohesive point to the images. Some, like today’s, are quite old by digital standards. The Legends Football League’s Cynthing Schmidt was only 19 years old when we took this picture. Now, you’ll find her popping up in places like Sports Illustrated’s Lovely Lady of the Day feature. She seems to have done quite well for herself, but that has absolutely nothing to do with today’s list.

10 Things We Need To Do Before The End Of The Year

Kiss A Baby.
Chances are, unless you live in a cave with absolutely no interaction with anyone, you know someone who has a baby, or at least a toddler. Nothing is as calming and joyful as being slobbered upon by a six-month-old who thinks you taste good.

Spend five minutes doing nothing but petting an animal. Animals are wonderful givers of affection and are surprisingly effective at de-stressing humans. Just be selective about the animal. Lions and fish aren’t so cuddly.

Take an online class. Yep, there’s still time for you to actually accomplish something so that you’re not totally embarrassed while visiting with family over the holidays. Mashable has a good list here.

Donate some time to a charity. This time of year, charities who directly help the poor need more than just money, they need your time. Packing and distributing food take a lot of effort. If you have children, make it a family affair. The lesson in giving is invaluable.

Count your blessings. Seriously. Pen. Paper. Write. Do it the old-fashioned way so that it actually sticks in your head how fortunate you’ve been this year. Then, seal it in an envelope to open next year when you’re feeling blue.

Try the new Oreos® churros. Seriously. They’re real. Check here for details. The holidays are time for special treats, right? J&J Foods just gave us the best present ever. You know you want to try them. Go ahead. Give in. We won’t tell.

Read a book. You’ve been meaning to do that all year, but somehow the time just slips away. There are a lot of lists with great titles from which to choose. We rather like the choices at NPR Books, or just visit a bookstore and browse!

Join a sing-a-long. The world is full of timid singers that would never dare to sing in public on their own, but one of the joys of this time of year is that several groups sponsor community sing-a-longs, usually featuring holiday songs that everyone knows. Look around and find one near you.

Wrap something different in bacon. There is no going wrong with bacon. I’ve put it around food I otherwise detest and it totally changes my ability to down brussel sprouts. I’m thinking bacon wrapped sugar cookies sounds like a good idea.

Thank a service member. Holidays can be especially tough for those who are away from their families. Remember, the US military is comprised totally of volunteers. Show them some appreciation for their sacrifice.

This is your final chance to keep the year from totally sucking and should keep you busy for a moment or two. Should you become bored, don’t worry, we have more lists coming all week!

PotD

Future Thoughts

November 21, 2015

And yet, I suppose you mourn the loss or the death of what you thought your life was, even if you find your life is better after. You mourn the future that you thought you’d planned.—Lynn Redgrave

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]Planning for the future is one of those things we are instructed to do from the moment we first begin primary school. Kindergarten prepares us for first grade., then we’re prepped for Middle School which, n turn, prepares us for High School, and at some point, somewhere, we’re supposed to graduate from something being fully prepared for the future, but we never truly are. There are always surprises. Our best plans are laid to waste when the future doesn’t happen exactly the way we anticipate.

We have ten days left in November. Of those, at least two are taken up with Thanksgiving events and, for us, celebrating a seven-year-old’s birthday. Some of you will spend time traveling back and forth, and the more dim-witted among us will waste time standing in line to spend money they don’t really have on things they don’t really need. When all is said and done, there might be four days of half-way decent productivity before December hits. That’s not a lot of time to plan.

Once December hits, this blog shuts down for the rest of the calendar year. Next week we try cramming in all the stuff that didn’t fit elsewhere. I’ll post something snarky on the first just because it’s my 55th birthday and I can’t let that pass without flinging something silly into the cybersphere. Beyond that, though, the rest of this year is given to planning for the next: what we will post, what we won’t, what we’ll change, what we’ll completely eliminate, and whether there’s anything new worth tossing into the mix. There are a lot of things to consider. We’ve already been doing research, looking at the year’s stats, and formulating ideas.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Today’s picture is exactly what one would see if they were looking over my shoulder while I’m in research and planning mode, attempting to divine the future. We play with pictures and try new editing techniques. We do a lot of reading. We check trends. Yet, for all that activity, I almost always end up sitting here, pipe in hand, headphones on my head, and when appropriate a shot of scotch within easy reach, wondering if I’m wasting my time.

What makes planning for the future so difficult and uncertain is that we do so expecting certain things to stay the same. We expect the same people to remain in our lives, fulfilling the same roles, behaving in a predictable fashion. We know some things, such as technology, will change, but we expect the base elements of our lives to stay put and when they are suddenly and unexpectedly altered, everything we had planned for the future suddenly goes out the window. There have been too many years where I counted upon a level of stability that just didn’t happen; the future wasn’t remotely predictable.

December planning may be a sure sign of mental instability on my part, but at this stage of my life it’s as much habit as anything, and I really can use the break from trying to find 600 or so words at 4:00 every morning. Looking into the next year, I know PFC Letbetter will be stationed in Japan, a handful of people are getting married, politicians and terrorists will both be disruptive, and mobile devices will complete their takeover of the internet. Beyond that, though, anything is a guess and if you want to see how it all turns out, you’ll just have to keep watching.[/one_half_last]

PotD

Relationship Status

November 20, 2015

As much as I’m not a journalist, I use journalism. And when you photograph a relationship, it’s quite wonderful to let something unfold in front of you.—Annie Leibovitz

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]Relationship can be a dangerous word. Neither Kat nor I have anything listed under “relationship status” on social media, and that isn’t likely to change any time too terribly soon. We both hate mushy, public displays of oh-my-significant-other-is-so-wonderful and we laugh and roll our eyes when we somehow still manage to find ourselves being that couple. We’ve both had relationships before, so this isn’t new. Unexpected might be a better word.

Almost three years have passed since Kat and I first met. Once we started talking to each other, we never stopped. Interestingly enough, the one thing we were both fairly sure did not actually exist was love. Having tried the relationship thing before and failed miserably, we were neither one convinced that this whole love thing was even possible. Mutual attraction? Sure. Long-term tolerance for the sake of companionship? Absolutely. Actual love? Nah, it’s a myth.

Okay, so we might have been wrong. We’re not the first two people in the history of the world to start a relationship without giving in to what we were pretty sure was a myth. Once that opinion changed, we still didn’t want to be all mushy about it. After all, there’s 25 years difference in our ages. We get strange looks just holding hands in public, and that typically has less to do with relationship and more to do with my damn legs not wanting to hold me upright. The expression on people’s faces when we do kiss in public is annoying. Of course, the expression on our faces when we see couples kissing in public is pretty annoying as well. Mush. Blech.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]An interesting thing happened as more acquaintances figured out that Kat and I were actually a couple; the disbelief of those friends on the fringe became anger, or jealousy, or something else not exactly in the category of accepting. For Kat, there was a sudden rush of would-be suitors who suddenly felt the need to declare that they had loved her first, they just hadn’t gotten around to saying anything yet. One guy even hilariously assumed that she only liked me for my money. We still laugh about that one.

On my end, though, the response to our relationship was more silent; the kind of silence that occurs when one witnesses something horrible happening right in front of them. Some just stopped talking. Others unfriended and blocked me on social media. And those who are still emotionally stuck in high school talked behind our backs, but not to our faces. While no one terribly close was involved, the response is still disappointing. We thought we had chosen only intelligent acquaintances.

Three years in, our relationship status isn’t likely to change. I’m more surprised than anyone that this relationship thing has actually happened because I was so very convinced it wasn’t possible. What we’ve learned is that love does exist, that we’re not on some existential list of doom, and that it’s rather entertaining when I tell the doctor Kat’s my fiancé, not my daughter. To those who still have a problem with us, I have but one word for you: Goodbye.[/one_half_last]

Music / PotD

When The Music Dies

November 19, 2015

To be alive, to be able to see, to walk, to have houses, music, paintings – it’s all a miracle. I have adopted the technique of living life miracle to miracle.—Arthur Rubinstein

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]”Do you still play?”

Something in me dies a little every time I’m asked that question. Music was such an overwhelming part of my life for the first 26 years. To no be playing, or conducting, or doing something creative in the field seems like a giant disappointment to myself, my parents, and all the teachers who suffered myriad lessons where I had failed to practice sufficiently. The adult I am now is less than pleased with the child I was then.

I miss making music outside of myself. I miss being part of an organization and having talented individuals with which to work, even amateurs. I miss the feeling of excitement when everything comes together in a performance and sends chills up my spine. Memories of the intensity of those moments make me glad that I had them, but wonder if I could still re-create that feeling now after being away for so long. With continued, every-day immersion in the music comes a sensitivity to the subtleties; one hears things in the 453rd listening that one did not hear before. Certainly, any sense of precision I once had would be gone now.

Questions linger in my mind as to whether I could ever return to a shadow of the musician I once imagined myself to be. For too many years, schedules that created 18- to 22-hour days prevented me from even being able to touch a piano. The day I finally sold the instrument at which I had sat through my entire childhood was painful, but not because I was losing anything that at that point was an integral part of my life. Rather, it was like the passing of a once-dear friend whom I hadn’t seen in twenty years. Mastery of music does not happen in a casual come-and-go relationship; either one is fully committed or one is merely a dabbler.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Kat used the children as an excuse for buying a keyboard a couple of years ago. We immediately set it up right next to my desk so that I could simply turn and play a few bars as the mood struck. Such an arrangement proved impractical for space as small as ours, though, and now it sits in the studio, out of sight. I typically wait until everyone is gone before slipping in there and playing for a few minutes. Each time I do, I am painfully reminded of how much skill and dexterity I’ve lost. My hands hurt as I try to execute a simple two-octave scale. Fingers fumble over keys that they once knew intimately.

Not that music is totally absent from my life, mind you. My playlists stretch on for hours and hours; some of them could fill an entire day without any hint of repetition, but I doubt such a thing is all that unusual. My opinions and criticism of music is still just as strong as ever, also. Some may remember earlier this year when a video went viral of Denver quarterback Peyton Manning “conducting” the Denver Symphony in an incredibly weak and pathetic rendition of the University of Tennessee’s fight song, “Rocky Top.” What ruined the video for me was that Manning was holding the baton backward. How did no one correct such an obvious error?

If, as Rubenstein suggests, music is a miracle, then I have let that miracle quite literally slip through my fingers. I keep telling myself that one of these days I’ll have sufficient time and discipline to bring back the Beethoven and the Debussy, perhaps to even find a small group of which I might be a part, but we know that won’t actually happen. The music that once dominated my life has died. Perhaps it is time to let it rest in peace.[/one_half_last]

PotD

Father, In Absentia

November 18, 2015

My mother and father were both much more remarkable than any story of mine can make them. They seem to me just mythically wonderful.—Orson Welles

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]This is going to hurt.

Even if I were perfect, there is no way I could ever live up to my impression of my own father. He wasn’t perfect himself, either, but even in his humanity and inevitable error, there was never a moment when I felt anything short of total, complete love from him. Were he still alive, Poppa would be 86 years old tomorrow and, regardless of what his physical condition might be. would still be trying to love everyone, including all the grandkids. That’s just who he was.

Unfortunately, he didn’t pass on much of that trait to me. Actually, I think my younger brother caught the gentle side of Poppa’s personality and he wears it extremely well. My brother makes a very good father to his little girl (even though she’s at an age where she may not appreciate that just yet). I picked up more of my grandfather Slover’s traits, the temper, the ability to keep people at a distance, being easily annoyed and slow to display any emotion. Does anyone want to trade?

I’ve been away from the boys now over ten years. I assure you, this wasn’t the plan. I was only going to Indianapolis for eight months, get my head on straight, then move back to Atlanta and start over. From Atlanta, I would have still been able to stay in the boys’ lives, attended concerts, show support, been something more like a dad. But that didn’t happen, did it? I was stuck up here and my boys were stuck with a dad they rarely get to see. Things have improved lately, we were able to spend some time together this summer, but still, the boys don’t have a dad, they have a father, in absentia.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Many years ago, I read an article I didn’t imagine could be true; that children of divorced parents were more likely to be strong leaders, to be tough and shrewd business people, and fare better than children who had both parents. Then, in 2013, Paul Tough’s book How Children Succeed (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt), made the argument that children of single parents have more grit and determination, pushing them ahead, giving them the drive to succeed. Both Presidents Clinton and Obama were raised by single parents. So, maybe I’m doing them a favor by not being there.

Does anyone else think that’s nothing more than a copout? Statistics can be twisted to say just about anything we want and these studies seem, in my mind, to be little more than an attempt to cover the guilt of having left. And even if my boys are better in some way for having been without me, I’m certainly not better; I’ve lost.

I’m getting a bit of a second chance now. I’ve been with Kat’s little ones longer than their bio-dad. They’ve even, just recently, started calling me Dad and that feels all warm and fuzzy. But the guilt still plagues me. Can I give to these little ones the father my own children never had?

The picture on my desk reminds me that my boys are not children, but young men, one’s even a Marine, about to deploy to Okinawa in a few weeks. There’s not a day that goes by, though, that I wish I could have been the father for them that mine was for me. The guilt won’t pass. They deserved better. [/one_half_last]

PotD / Social Commentary

Getting By With A Little Help

November 17, 2015

But what we can do, as flawed as we are, is still see God in other people, and do our best to help them find their own grace. That’s what I strive to do, that’s what I pray to do every day.—Barack Obama

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]The cane sits close to my desk, just in case I need the help. I hate the damn thing. I hate the sight of it, and even more the fact that I should probably use it more than I do. Rain will force me to use it today, I already know. Tomorrow may be another such day as well. With winter beginning to set in, the days when I need the help are going to begin outnumbering the days I don’t. I am somewhat pissed off by the knowledge there are 80-year-old men out running marathons while I can’t get down the hall to the bathroom without assistance.

I never have liked asking for help. Somewhere in my head, for some reason, me asking for help is a sign of weakness. I don’t mind others asking for help when they need it, though I am slightly annoyed when a certain five-year-old asks for help tying her shoes when she’s yet to try for herself. I don’t want to ask anyone for help and I don’t like so often being in a position of needing help that, at times, it feels as though I can’t do anything without some form of assistance. Losing any bit of my independence strikes deep at my soul, leads to depression and questioning my own value in the world. I have quite possibly thrown my cane across the floor in frustration.

Yet, here I am again this morning, needing to lean on something, or someone. I woke up this morning barely able to move. Independence is a myth. I’ve become reliant on Kat and some days when she has to be gone for prolonged periods I often limit my own activities for fear that, should something happen, there’s no one here to help (the cats are absolutely no help at all). When I go for a walk, I have to make sure my phone is well charged in case I should fall, become lost or confused, or need a ride home.

I never expected to have these limitations at this age and it angers me to no end that I can’t keep up with everyone else on the planet. Needing help, even from an inanimate object totally under my control, is emotionally deflating.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]I am one of the lucky ones. Despite my challenges, I have always known that someone has had my back; friends who have made sure I had something to eat, that drove me to doctors appointments, and kept a roof over my head. Not everyone is so fortunate. Nearly four million people in the United States will experience homelessness this year. Of those, almost 60 thousand of those are veterans; 1.3 million are children. They’re just out there, on their own, struggling to exist.

The second stanza of the poem on the Statue of Liberty in New York Harbor reads:

“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

At this very moment, there are 10,000 Syrian refugees, and more from other war-torn countries, waiting at our shore, looking for help. Yet, because of the cowardly actions of a handful of Daesh morons, there are many of us wanting to hide behind a wall of fear and not let them in. We would rather let them starve or die of hypothermia than accept the risk that comes with being compassionate.

If America has become this country who is afraid too afraid of the shadow of terrorism to keep the refugees of that terrorism alive, then we have lost every last shred of our independence; our fear cripples us just as severely as arthritis in my back and legs. I have a cane on which I can lean, and friends ready to help. The millions homeless and those fleeing terror need help as well. The time has come to step up and be that help.[/one_half_last]

PotD / Social Commentary

Grumpy Old Man

November 16, 2015

Am I grumpy? I might be. But I think maybe sometimes it’s misinterpreted.—Harrison Ford

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]I don’t think of myself as a smoker. I don’t like cigarettes at all; can’t stand the damn things. I light my pipe when the situation around me is frustrating and I need to detach and focus on something that doesn’t involve sending my blood pressure further into the stratosphere. Surprisingly, the need to do so doesn’t occur as often as one might think. And yeah, I know it’s better to use a match than a lighter, but hey, expediency was important, not the quality of the smoke. If you’re going to bitch at me, go away. I’m grumpy.

It was determined long ago, before I was even 30, that I would eventually become a Grumpy Old Man. How that was evident at such a young age, I don’t know. Perhaps I’ve always been fussy. I do know that I’ve always had a short fuse and very little tolerance for stupidity, which seems to have grown dramatically. In fact, I’m willing to bet that the world’s overly abundant ignorance is another contributing factor to my blood pressure issues. The universe should be paying for my medicine. Grumpy Old Man status has been achieved and the morons of the world, all seven billion of them, are to blame.

What I wouldn’t have guessed some 30 years ago is that there would be so very much Grumpy Old Man fodder; it’s everywhere. Let’s start with the idiots in the neighborhood who apparently don’t recognize a stop sign when they see it. The signs for the all-way stop are not hidden behind trees or difficult to see from a distance. No, the people running them are just completely selfish assholes who don’t give a damn about anyone’s safety, including their own. I may have been seen standing out in the street yelling at them more than once, hoping their cars blow up. Why? Because I’m a Grumpy Old Man.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]I was recently complaining about the fools running the stop signs and someone referenced the character of Mr. Wilson from Hank Ketcham’s cartoon, Dennis the Menace. I can support that comparison. Mr. Wilson was someone who just wanted some peace and quiet in his retirement years, and low-and-behold the Mitchells move in next door and give birth to one of the brattiest little kids to ever don a pair of overalls and carry a slingshot. Understand, Dennis wasn’t even old enough for school. Why the hell did the kid have a slingshot? I can totally understand Mr. Wilson’s frequent frustration.

The world needs grumpy old men. If it weren’t for us, the rest of the world would be grabbing another beer and continually shouting, “Hey, watch this!” How do you think terrorist groups are formed? There obviously were no grumpy old men around to slap the insolent jackasses upside the head when they first suggested killing large numbers of people for the attention. What were they thinking, that the collective peoples of the world would just say, “Oh, you poor thing, here, have a cookie?” No, the world responds by blowing the fucking morons to smithereens. Asswipes.

I am quite content to take on the Grumpy Old Man role; I’m settling into it and it feels as comfortable as an old sweater. At some point, I’m going to need a larger front porch on which I can set a rocking chair so that the visual impact of the role is complete. I’m also going to need a dog that growls at anyone smelling of fancy men’s perfume. Being a Grumpy Old Man is my right, my destiny, and I happily embrace this important social position. Now, hand me my pipe and stay the fuck off my lawn! [/one_half_last]

PotD

What I Am

November 15, 2015

For the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: ‘If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?’ And whenever the answer has been ‘No’ for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.—Steve Jobs

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]Every year about this time, in the gap between my photography anniversary and my birthday, I hit this period of existential angst as the universe seems to force me to look into a mirror and answer the questions of who and what I am. Almost every year, I spend the first few days of this reflection totally depressed and somewhat despondent as I consider just how much I wanted to do compared to how little was actually achieved. Then, I snap out of that funk and spend the rest of the year trying to figure out how to make the next year better. Sometimes it works, but this year it didn’t.

As a result, I am dragging you, dear reader, along with me on my journey this week as I more openly consider what I am. Am I a photographer? A writer? A musician? A cripple? A father? A lover? Or just a blowhard with an over-sized ego trying to get attention? There is at least one person who would answer affirmatively for each of those questions, and none of them would be totally incorrect. We are all complex, multi-faceted individuals and if we gave your life the same level of examination we might find even more questions worth asking. I’ll admit to having an ego, but I consider it an occupational necessity. More importantly, is the ego justified?

What I think is important for me this year is not so much a matter of identity, which is why I’m not asking who I am, but more a matter of definition, hence what I am. Who I am can be superficial, but what I am runs deeper and forces one to consider in what areas one is truly effective, where we make a difference, and to what degree we understand what we’re doing. Defining what I am should, to a limited point of reason, provide a more solid vision of how to plan for the next year, playing off strengths and determining whether to shore up weaknesses or let them float away.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]I think I can readily admit that one thing I am not is overly neat. We live in a world where people with obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) set the standard for personal organization and clutter-free living. What we’re ignoring is that being so driven to have a place for everything and everything in its place is a disorder; a recognized mental deficiency that prevents one from accepting the world as it is: messy. I’m not OCD about anything except maybe my coffee cup; don’t touch it.

Where the strongest battle lies is whether I am more a photographer or a writer. Do I communicate better with pictures or with words? On these pages, I blend both, but is that working; which one is stronger? How many people read the articles versus just looking at the pictures? When we look at income, revenue from writing and revenue from photography have been almost even this year; depressing, but even, which would indicate there is a similar value to both. But is one dominant over the other?

A term that is coming into its own, perhaps to the point of cliché, is using the word “creative” as an identifier. The use is especially strong among advertising and marketing agencies trying to maximize the multiple skills of a limited number of people in order to hold down personnel costs. As a result, instead of 40-member teams, each with a different role, we see ten-member teams of “creatives” who wear multiple hats. That definition seems to fit what I am, at least for now. I’m going to try it on, take it for a spin around the block, and see what happens.

charles i. letbetter, creative. Perhaps a bit pretentious, but accurate.[/one_half_last]

PotD

Always A Smile

November 13, 2015

Get up and dance, get up and smile, get up and drink to the days that are gone in the shortest while.—Simon Fowler

Zachariah (2015)

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]I’ve been told that I don’t smile enough. Such comments typically come from people who really don’t know me all that well. Those who are around me the most often know that I actually smile rather often, but my smiles are not the big, toothy smiles that many people associate with happiness. Rather, mine are more subtle: the turning up of one corner of my mouth given away by a certain look in my eyes. Kat catches me smiling even when I don’t think that I am.

As a photographer, a smile isn’t always what I’m wanting to see. Sure, if we’re doing engagement photos or at a birthday party, then by all means, smile away. But for more editorial looks, especially those that involved carefully designed and applied makeup, a big smile can ruin everything. Smiles change the shape of the face, push the cheeks up toward the eyes, and often cause people to appear as though they are squinting. For editorial or fashion work, the wrong kind of smile can be absolutely devastating to the photograph.

A smile is a form of encouragement, an unspoken greeting that is inherently cheerful. Mother used to complain that one of the biggest differences between living in Kansas versus Oklahoma was that people in Kansas didn’t smile as much. Mom had a habit of smiling almost any time she was in public. When she met someone on the street she would smile and say hello. People from Oklahoma were like that once upon a time. When she moved to Kansas in 1958, though, folks up there looked at her as though she were crazy for smiling so much. She found the difference quite disheartening.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Zach inherited his grandmother’s quick smile. Even when he was a small child sitting in the front of the grocery cart, anyone who would make eye contact with him would be greeted with the biggest smile he could find. Baby smiles are contagious, you know, and I don’t recall a single instance where his smile wasn’t returned. Twenty-three years later, he’s a lot bigger and doesn’t come close to fitting in the front of a shopping cart, but make eye contact with him and see if that same smile doesn’t flash across his face, even when he’s busy working.

Smiles aren’t just something that happens at the mouth. Smiles take up the whole face, especially the eyes. The look in a person’s eyes when they smile lets one know whether the apparent cheer is sincere. A smile can be evil, after all. I have met a couple of people whose noses changed shape and flattened when they smile, which was interesting to observe. There are also some people who can’t seem to smile without blushing, no matter what might be the circumstances.

Smiling may be the best thing a face does. I think, at least anecdotally, people who smile more are easier to remember. We respond more positively to people who smile when we meet them for the first time. The absence of a smile on a person’s face tends to make us feel uncomfortable and we worry what might be wrong.

It’s Friday the 13th and a lot of people are likely to be needing a smile. Why not help out their face and give them a smile they remember? You’ll improve the world one face at a time.[/one_half_last]

PotD

Many Faces Of A Mom

November 12, 2015

She had a hit for every syllable: ‘Don’t. You. Ever. Talk. To. Me. Like. That. Ever. Again.’ That was the last time I ever talked back to Mom.—Misty May-Treanor

Brittney Jo (2015)

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]Moms come with more facial expressions than anyone else on the planet, and they know exactly when to use each one. There’s no class they have to take, there are no books they have to read, by the time a young woman suffers through nine months of carrying a child who has poked, kicked, and punched every internal organ she has, she has an entire encyclopaedia of facial expressions ready for that child and is just waiting for the opportunity to use each one of them. A mom is not someone with whom one messes around.

Mom faces are unique in that only your mom’s expressions work on you. Your best friend’s mom can give you the same face and you just blow it off like, “Meh, she’s miffed, but what’s she really gonna do about it.” When your mom gives you a look, though, you know what she can do on the follow-up and you know you don’t want her to go there, especially in front of your buddies. By the time you’re nine or ten and starting to think of some really serious trouble, your mom has those looks down so well she hardly even has to speak to you. You just meet her eyes and you know; either she loves you more than anything, or one more slip up and she’s burning your bed on the front lawn.

I don’t think moms, especially young moms, really have much choice than to develop those facial expressions. They have so many other things going on around them, they don’t always have time to give a child the tongue lashing they deserve. I can remember some Sunday mornings when my mother would be singing in the church choir, smiling away until she saw that I wasn’t in my seat, but under the pew playing with the car I’d snuck into m suit pocket. She’d keep smiling until our eyes met. Pow. I was done for, my future was sealed and it wasn’t going to be pleasant. All that in one very brief glance that most people probably never noticed.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Brittney’s made some interesting faces over the few years I’ve known her. Rolling her eyes is a frequent one that adults are likely to get. Then, there’s that frustrated sigh when people who should be listening don’t. Brittney is a retail manager so sometimes she has to treat both employees and customers as though they were misbehaving children, and out come the danger looks; it’s a necessity of the job. Then, when she is around her own two darling and energetic little boys, there is a totally different set of looks ranging from complete adoration to I’m-Going-To-Sell-You-To-The-First-Circus-I-Find.

There is not anyone who can achieve as much with a single glance as can a mom. One look and you sit up straight and stop pinching your sister. One look and you hear yourself confessing to stealing the last cookie. One look and you really wish the whole earth would just open up and swallow you.

One look and you know you are loved and cherished more than anything or anyone in the world.

I’ve seen comedians who could make a lot of different faces, but no one is as effective as is a mom; it’s a talent inherent to the position. You’re not going to beat them, ever, not even after you’re a mom yourself. I’ve watched it happen while I was backing slowly away trying to not make any noise. The older mom won. No contest. I’m pretty sure I felt the earth shake, though. All the more reason to be good to y our mom. You don’t want that disappointed I-gave-birth-to-you look.

Behave. Mom’s watching. [/one_half_last]

PotD

Total Determination

November 11, 2015

Nothing in this world can take the place of persistence. Talent will not: nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent. Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not: the world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent.—Calvin Coolidge

Benjamin (2015)

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]There are times when I am frustrated by the lack of audience here. I look at yesterday’s numbers for example, the lowest all month, and wonder what the hell I have to do to get people’s attention on a regular basis. I question why I bother getting up so damn early in the morning, seven days a week, to make sure the pictures and articles are all here for you first thing. The answer: determination. I’m not willing to accept failure. We’ll re-tool around the first of the year, re-format, and keep trying.

Determination is one of those traits that tends to make itself quickly noticeable on a person’s face. Watch Lionel Messi’s face as he’s taking the ball downfield and you’ll see determination; he’s not going to be satisfied until that ball is in the goal. Watch Jason Heyward’s face when he steps up to bat for the Cardinals, or whomever he ends up playing for next season; the ball is going to be hit. And have you seen Peyton Manning’s face when he’s forced out of the pocket by a defensive lineman? He has no intention of going down with that ball.

Sports are not the only place where one sees such determination on a face, though. Watch the dad trying to change the diaper of a wiggling infant while using the baby changing station in a public facility; that is determination. Look at the face of a young woman as she prepares for her first job interview after college; you’re seeing determination. Better yet, admire the face of a young child as they build they attempt to build that tower of blocks higher and higher; physics be damned, they are going to put the red one on the very top, even if they have to stand on someone else to do so.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Benjamin has always been a determined individual, no matter what he was doing. He hates to lose (you really don’t want to play Monopoly with him). He sets a goal and isn’t satisfied until he reaches it. I still remember those painfully early Saturday mornings on the soccer field when he was six. The coach finally had to take him out of the game because Ben had to score every time, and more often than not, he did, much to the dismay of the other team. He’s a U.S. Marine now, and that same determination shows on his face more than ever.

Determination is what moves the world forward; people who refused to give up even when facing insurmountable odds. The men who signed the Declaration of Independence were determined to form, “a more perfect union.” Lewis and Clark were determined to map out the wilderness West of the Mississippi River. Dr. Jonas Salk was determined to find a way to prevent polio from ruining so many lives. Sure, mistakes, miscalculations, and unexpected changes in condition can at times thwart the best of plans, but those who ultimately win pick themselves up, along with those around them, and keep moving forward.

I have a great number of concerns about the future for a host of reasons I won’t list at the moment; the obstacles we face are significant and the current game plan hasn’t worked as well as we’d hoped. I have been so incredibly tempted to just give up. Don’t worry, we won’t. We move forward, adjusting, changing, re-tooling, and maybe even tearing some things down so we can rebuild. My face is as set as Ben’s. Hmm, I wonder where he get it.[/one_half_last]

PotD

The Eyes Have It

November 10, 2015

Few are those who see with their own eyes and feel with their own hearts.—Albert Einstein

Julia (2014)

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]Eyes are perhaps the most interesting feature on one’s face. They come in different colors, different sizes, and with this incredible ability to communicate without ever saying a word. Whose mother didn’t have “that look,” you know, the one that told you that you had just done something terribly wrong and were going to be in a butt-load of trouble once she got you home. Eyes convey so much that we find it difficult to imagine life without them.

I can’t begin to describe how it felt when one morning, exactly three years ago, when I woke up and everything was a blur. I washed my face twice, then three times. I used saline drops. I cleaned my glasses no fewer than a dozen times. Nothing I did changed the fact that might eyesight was severely diminished. I was scared. Fortunately, thanks to the eventual cataract surgery in both eyes, the end result was positive; I see better now than I ever have.

My brother has it much worse. He was born legally blind, never crawled as a baby, and couldn’t walk until he had glasses, which back in 1966 was far from an easy thing to achieve. He grew up in a world where the boundaries of an object were always blurred, where depth perception was uncertain, especially in moving objects, and the success or failure of any activity depended upon the degree to which his glasses got in the way. However, not being able to see well enough for sports led him directly to strong math skills and becoming one of the best software engineers I’ve known.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Julia’s eyes are too beautiful to not include in this week’s discussions about faces. This dear child has had some rather daunting health challenges of her own the past year and her life has been far from ideal. Yet, it every picture she takes, her eyes are bright, vivid, and exciting. The day she was here to shoot with us, her eyes danced with an excitement I doubt I’ll ever forget.

I’m not sure I buy the whole thing about eyes being the window to the soul, though. First, one generally gets arrested for standing around looking into people’s windows, and similarly staring too long at someone’s eyes can be just a bit creepy, even if it’s something one has to do for professional reasons. Second, I’ve encountered too many people who know how to use the power of their eyes as a distraction, causing one to think they are being friendly when the opposite is true.

Eyes never cease to amaze me, though, and I’m glad that they are on the front of our heads, in the upper center part of our faces rather than on tentacles perched above our heads. I’m intrigued by all the colors eyes can hold and their way of conveying emotion even when we’d rather they didn’t. Eyes can also get us in trouble when they keep wandering to places socially inappropriate. They also allow us to soar among the stars and catch disaster before it happens. Eyes are wonderful; we just have to be sure they are open at the right time.[/one_half_last]

PotD

Mischievous Grins

November 9, 2015

If I’m writing something and I’m not feeling mischievous, then I know it’s not going to be great.—Elizabeth Meriwether

Gabriel (2015)

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]One of the most attractive things about faces is their ability to smile. There are as many different kinds of smiles as there are people, but the ones that get my attention the fastest are those who don’t give you those big, toothy smiles, but rather those who just give you a mischievous grin. If you look, you’ll often find a bit of a sparkle in their eye which is indicative of an active mind; one just has to be a bit concerned as to what that activity might entail.

Some faces just have a mischievous look to them. Like any other smile, that grin can stick and people who have worn one for years might as well have, “here comes trouble” painted across their forehead. Not that they are bad people in any way. I think being mischievous is probably a greater sign of intelligence than what one finds on a standardized test form because mischievous people are creative and imaginative first of all. The problem is that their imagination tends to run well outside any box, resulting in actions and behavior than can be surprising.

Mischievous people are important to society because they challenge the boundaries of what we consider normal and conventional. Tell a mischievous child that a given action is unacceptable and watch them perform that action almost immediately. Why? Because they want to see if you were correct or just trying to coerce them into observing a set of rules that, from their perspective, don’t make any sense. So, they do what we would rather they do it, their little faces grinning the entire time.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Gabriel is the youngest of my three sons. I often tell people that he was born mischievous; it is part of his identity. When he was born, the nurses whisked him away to a nearby table to clean him up and check his APGAR scores. Nana, his maternal grandmother, followed along, anxious and excited as nanas tend to be about the arrival of a new grandchild. In her excitement, Nana got a little too close. Pow! Gabriel let’s loose an impressive arc of pee and hits his Nana right in the face. The little guy was less than five minutes old and already showing his personality. Doctors say babies don’t really smile, but I’m pretty sure I saw his first grin that morning.

Mischievous grins can, at times, be difficult to catch. Mischievous people often have a very dry wit and a sense of humor that allows them to deliver sarcasm with a straight face so that one is never really quite sure whether they’re serious or not. The give-away is the quick flash of that grin, the brief sparkle in their eye that lets you know they’re just having fun keeping everyone else on edge.

Society, and parents, tend to be easily frustrated by mischievous people because they are constantly finding uncomfortable ways of showing us our shortcomings. They seem to inherently see behind our façades and then find creative, and often humiliating, ways of calling us out. Yet, whether or not we want to admit it, mischievous challenges are often correct, and that smile is their way of celebrating. Embrace them; they’re smarter than we are.[/one_half_last]

Art / PotD

The Function Of Form

November 6, 2015

The Function of Form (2011)

Paper cutouts allow me to draw in color. I see it as a simplification. Instead of drawing the contour and putting color into it–one modifying the other–I draw directly in color.—Henri Matisse

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]Of all the paper designs we’ve done, the one in today’s photograph is almost certainly the most difficult. At least, the design was the most challenging to work into the form. In case you’ve not noticed over the week’s images, there are times that I’ve cut the paper into specific shapes, as Matisse did, while at other times I’ve torn the paper, preferring the rough, uneven edges over anything precise. This design was obviously not only cut, but careful attention, also known as yelling and screaming in complete frustration, was required to create those curls.

Those damn curls. You’ll notice that I only use them this one time; I wasn’t crazy enough to try it again. What created the challenge was not only the fact that the paper was so thin, but that the color, when wet, became translucent. Light pink is not a color that works well in this form! Only by putting another darker shade of red under it is the pink even visible at all. Without some form of backing, the paper disappears causing the skin to look as though it is covered in some very disturbing wrinkles. Trying to create curls that were visible to the camera was nothing short of a nightmare.

Yet, for Matisse the cutouts were a simplification of form, allowing him to direct his energies more directly toward the function of color. As a painter devoted to the intricacies of color, Matisse was no stranger to the challenge of trying to find exactly the right shade and hue to match what he was trying to communicate. Mixing paints and powders would sometimes consume so much of the day that darkness would arrive with only a handful of brush strokes having actually been placed upon the canvas.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Cutouts allowed the artist to bypass the entire color creating process. Matisse often referred to the form as “painting with scissors.” The method of creating the paper was something Matisse left to his assistants. You won’t find this paper in any store, even today. Assistants would brush Linel gouaches onto large pieces of white paper. [Gouache consists of a form of watercolor-based paint, pigment, and typically gum arabic as a binding agent.] The finished papers were allowed to air dry and a stockpile was kept in Matisse’s bedroom as well as his studio. Having come from a family of weavers, working with scissors felt quite natural and the form quickly took over all his work.

What’s important at this juncture is to realize that in changing from paint to paper Matisse was not giving up on his artistic form, but expanding it; he took advantage of his physical limitations to explore color in a different manner, but never did he stop thinking of himself as a painter. Photography has experienced a shift in form as well, having moved quite solidly from film to digital media. Some see this shift as a fundamental change in how they take pictures. Yet, if one considers the latter method merely an extension of the former one is likely to find more cohesion between the two.

The function of form is not to create a rigid box within which all creative interpretation of that form must exist. Form is more of a platform on which expression is displayed. The contents of expression can, and should change on a regular basis. Just as art forms evolve on a global scale, so must our personal form evolve to keep our expressions vital to the current conversation.[/one_half_last]

Art / PotD

The Challenge To Create

November 5, 2015

The Challenge To Create (2011)

Why have I never been bored? For more than fifty years I have never ceased to work.—Henri Matisse

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]Creativity does not always come easily and throughout one’s life there are moments when it seems one is faced with challenge after challenge; distracting matters that inhibit or sometimes prohibit being able to work. I have known more than one artist who had little choice but to completely give up their life’s work because of one challenge or another. Life is not easy for anyone, but there are times when I wonder if the life of an artists, which is so keenly dependent upon the use of nearly all our faculties, does not somehow invite disaster more than others.

For Matisse, his greatest challenges all seemed to arrive one upon another. First came his divorce from his wife of 41 years, Amélie, due in part to the artist’s continued relationship with Lydia Delectorskaya, a young Serbian refugee who had been Amélie’s companion, but more due to Matisse’s own stubbornness and insistence upon being alone. Personal relationships never were exactly his strong point. Shortly thereafter, Matisse became ill with what was later discovered to be cancer. Surgery and severe treatments challenged not only his creativity, but his ability to work, to stand for long hours, to mix paints, and to hold a brush.

Then, in the midst of all the physical challenge, came World War II. Despite the encouragement of his children and American supporters, Matisse refused to leave France. He did move to a more secluded home on the outskirts of Vence, which at least removed him from the most severe activity. Matisse was intentionally unpolitical and deliberately worked to keep his paintings as removed from politics as well. Yet, he could not avoid the challenge of worrying about the fate of his paintings in occupied France and Russia. Another challenge came as his daughter, Marguerite, and younger son Jean were fiercely involved in the French resistance. Marguerite was captured and tortured by the Gestapo, but managed to escape from a cattle car on its way to an internment camp.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]All this trouble and worry created one challenge after another for the artist. He spent most of the period from 1941 to 1946 in near solitude, often unable to get out of bed, and carefully avoiding any social contacts that might be suspect. Yet, during this most difficult period was when he began work on his cutouts. It was while he was confined to Vence that he completed all the cutouts that would appear in his book, Jazz, in 1947. Where socializing with people held unknown dangers, he turned his attention to nature, his two cats, and caring for an unknown number of doves, all of which influenced his cutouts. Through every challenge that was thrown at him, Matisse never stopped working.

Life is nothing without challenge and one never knows in advance how a challenge might affect an artist’s work. Matisse met challenge with a renewed energy that carried him through his later stages of life. His work in the face of both physical and personal adversity becomes inspirational when one realizes all that the artist had to overcome in creating those latter day works. Illness itself is a significant challenge, even with modern treatments that alone might be enough to sideline someone. Combine that with the complete crumbling of life’s other structures and most of us might just stop.

When I first get up of the morning, while making that first cup of coffee, I look at the weather forecast to see what challenge I may face in the coming day. Dry days are good, wet or cold days not so much. Schedules create a challenge that can be quite distracting. Family needs sometimes conflict with my ability to sit down and edit. Some days, just finding a sense of creative motivation is a challenge. Yet, we must go on. Challenge itself fuels our creativity. This is the reality of art.[/one_half_last]

Art / PotD

An Expression of Color

November 4, 2015

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An Expression of Color (2011)

It is only after years of preparation that the young artist should touch color – not color used descriptively, that is, but as a means of personal expression.—Henri Matisse

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]We are so immersed in color today that black and white imagery of any kind automatically feels old, reminiscent, perhaps even antique. We forget just how recently color has come to dominate our media. At the turn of the 20th century, though, life wasn’t so bright. With the industrial revolution at full tilt, dark, heavy smoke billowed from the factory stacks from the burning of coal and oil. The air was filled with soot, coating the entire world in its greyness. Life was difficult if not downright dreary. Tuberculosis killed millions without them even realizing what it was. The one source of color that remained was art.

Color was always a critical element for Henri Matisse. Influenced by the likes of Gauguin, Cézanne, Van Gogh, and Japanese art, Matisse used color as a means of expression unlike anyone before him. In his earliest paintings, which can sometimes be difficult to find on exhibition, color is the single driving force, having eliminated any sense of shadow or perspective. As he moved toward and gradually overtook Fauvism, it was Matisse’s raw strokes of color combined with Cézanne’s sense of structure that defined the entire movement.

With his cutouts, though, color became everything, the very soul of existence in his work. Because of his limited mobility, having barely survived treatment for cancer and severe depression, he had to leave it to assistants to prepare for him huge sheets of colored paper. There are no greys or even anything too terribly dark or light in anything he did during this period. Colors are strong, vibrant, and demanding. He would cut out the shapes while confined to bed and attach them to his bedroom wall. At one point, the artist remarked that he had so many cutouts he wasn’t sure what he would do with them all.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Today, I fear we take color for granted. We rarely think, especially as photographers, about the emotional value of one shade of red over another, or how a specific tone of blue might alter how a viewer feels about a picture. Too often, I see colors slapped together haphazardly with no thought to how, or whether, they relate to the picture or each other. We pay too little attention to how colors shape our world, to their natural order. Sure, there are times when those rules can be broken, but in doing so we need to understand the effect we are forcing upon the viewer.

Color does not exist for color’s sake. Color is more than just a boundary or a specific bending of light. Color is an expression of emotion, whether casual or demonstrative, that carries an image from the heart of the artist to the soul of the one viewing. When artists complain that no one understands their work, how often is it at least partially because they have failed in their understanding of color, how it breathes, sighs, angers, delights, brings sorrow, or radiates joy? Even subtle variations can totally change the perception of a picture.

Color is to the artist, and the photographer, what words are to the novelist. Even when one does decide to work in black and white, by making that tonal choice one is choosing a vocabulary for their work. If the structure of that vocabulary fails to make sense or stir emotion, viewers inevitably walk away because they are unable to understand what the artist is trying to communicate.

Colors should never be accidental. With every image, be mindful of what you say. Choose your vocabulary carefully.[/one_half_last]

experience

I put my heart and my soul into my work and have lost my mind in the process.—Vincent Van Gogh

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My mother always kept library books in the house, and one rainy Sunday afternoon – this was before television, and we didn’t even have a radio – I picked up a book to look at the pictures and discovered I was reading and enjoying what I read.—Beverly Cleary

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The only use of an obstacle is to be overcome. All that an obstacle does with brave men is, not to frighten them, but to challenge them.—Woodrow Wilson

Find a photo challenge that actually challenges you.

Make sure you actually have time to complete the challenge.

Choose a challenge that interests you.

Consider the equipment necessary to complete the challenge.

What modifications are possible?

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We don’t develop courage by being happy every day. We develop it by surviving difficult times and challenging adversity.—Barbara de Angelis

Stay warm.

Avoid politics (and politicians) whenever possible.

Fight terror and violence by loving everyone.

Pay cash, save as much as possible.

Take more pictures: hire a professional.

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Start by doing what’s necessary; then do what’s possible; and suddenly you are doing the impossible.—Francis of Assisi

Everything on one page … sort of.

Expanded portfolios.

Expanded content.

Service pricing.

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I haven’t trusted polls since I read that 62% of women had affairs during their lunch hour. I’ve never met a woman in my life who would give up lunch for sex.—Erma Bombeck

8 Solutions To Lousy Sex

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The bed is a bundle of paradoxes: we go to it with reluctance, yet we quit it with regret; we make up our minds every night to leave it early, but we make up our bodies every morning to keep it late.—Ogden Nash

8 Reasons To Steal The Bed Covers

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The secret of our success is that we never, never give up.—Wilma Mankiller, Principle Chief of the Cherokee, 1985-1995

6 Reasons To Never Give Up

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We cannot stop the winter or the summer from coming. We cannot stop the spring or the fall or make them other than they are. They are gifts from the universe that we cannot refuse. But we can choose what we will contribute to life when each arrives.—Gary Zukav

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I refuse to accept the view that mankind is so tragically bound to the starless midnight of racism and war that the bright daybreak of peace and brotherhood can never become a reality… I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word.—Martin Luther King, Jr.

10 Things We Need To Do Before The End Of The Year

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And yet, I suppose you mourn the loss or the death of what you thought your life was, even if you find your life is better after. You mourn the future that you thought you’d planned.—Lynn Redgrave

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As much as I’m not a journalist, I use journalism. And when you photograph a relationship, it’s quite wonderful to let something unfold in front of you.—Annie Leibovitz

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To be alive, to be able to see, to walk, to have houses, music, paintings – it’s all a miracle. I have adopted the technique of living life miracle to miracle.—Arthur Rubinstein

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My mother and father were both much more remarkable than any story of mine can make them. They seem to me just mythically wonderful.—Orson Welles

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But what we can do, as flawed as we are, is still see God in other people, and do our best to help them find their own grace. That’s what I strive to do, that’s what I pray to do every day.—Barack Obama

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Am I grumpy? I might be. But I think maybe sometimes it’s misinterpreted.—Harrison Ford

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For the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: ‘If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?’ And whenever the answer has been ‘No’ for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.—Steve Jobs

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Get up and dance, get up and smile, get up and drink to the days that are gone in the shortest while.—Simon Fowler

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She had a hit for every syllable: ‘Don’t. You. Ever. Talk. To. Me. Like. That. Ever. Again.’ That was the last time I ever talked back to Mom.—Misty May-Treanor

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Few are those who see with their own eyes and feel with their own hearts.—Albert Einstein

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