Many people (be glad I didn't write 'alot of') of my age or thereabouts are busy complaining about others beginning a sentence with "So", as in the answer to the question of how I've spent my day so far being "So this morning I have already packed up the boxes for tomorrow's market" when the sentence doesn't follow from anything. It's one of those grammatical developments that are causing the most angst with people currently.
There are others which bother me quite a bit; I'm still definitely a less and fewer pedant and would like to be a 'beg the question' pedant were it not for the fact that I suspect half of those reading this blog won't even know what I mean. It's literally (yes, precisely that) years since I heard the correct use of the phrase and since I've heard it misused even in philosophic circles where it should have a valuable function and indeed had to explain to Mike what it used to mean (and he was a great thinker, philosopher and wordsmith but didn't know) I will probably give up with that one. I'm sad about it though. The phrase 'to beg the question' is a nice (in the proper, original use of that word too!) way to express the concept that it does. If you don't know it and would like to, I recommend Wikipedia.
But you'll have noticed that I do break many other grammatical rules, such as beginning a sentence with a preposition. Indeed, I'm fond of writing incomplete sentences. When it seems appropriate.
You've probably guessed where this is leading. I have realised that these days I frequently start sentences, paragraphs, stories and the like with 'So'. I make no apologies. It makes a change from 'Well' and I find it really hard to just launch into speaking without at least a minor preamble. If you hate it, you probably hate sentences starting with 'Well' also, but ask yourself which is worse?
If you hate both equally, then possibly you find this post upsetting and I am sorry for that. I won't be stopping, though I hope to continue to resist "from the get go".
Friday, September 18, 2015
Saturday, September 5, 2015
Saying yes
One of the by-products of working as a full-time artist and being single-minded about it is that I have spent a lot of time saying no. In order to try to maintain the stock levels I would like, I put my work first much of the time so if something was suggested that would interrupt my normal working routine I thought carefully about it but would often say no. Some people apparently find the discipline of working for yourself from home difficult. I seem to have found that part easy. If you work in an office five days a week nobody expects you to be free in the day on weekdays and I have always treated my working week (albeit often longer than five days per week) much the same.
Now I am working part time, one of the main benefits is that I'm able to say yes much more often. Happily, opportunities have also come along to give me the chance to exercise this freedom.
Last week I spent a couple of days teaching a friend to throw a pot. I say a couple of days. We actually had a session on the first afternoon, a short session on the second morning and a third that afternoon. Vivien has set herself a challenge to complete 60 tasks during the year she is 60, to raise money for her two favourite charities. Some of these tasks are relatively short, like spending two days learning enough to throw a pot, but some are longer, like learning to play the saxophone well enough to play a particular riff from a favourite song. Some of the tasks are definitely challenges in themselves; throwing a pot in a short time when you have no previous experience of clay work is one such.
Vivien and I met more than 40 years ago at Eastbourne School of Domestic Economy, where we studied Needlework, Dressmaking, Cookery, Laundry and Housework, (with a side order of Household Accounts plus Typing if you thought you still weren't doing enough). I know her to be someone well able (if a little out of practice) to use her hands to make things so I was happy to offer making a pot as one of her tasks.
I began to worry when Vivien told me she herself was a tad apprehensive. But hey, it was unknown territory, who wouldn't be? I brushed aside my own worried thoughts about whether teaching someone I knew so well over so many years might be as difficult as teaching your partner to drive. We enjoyed a leisurely lunch together and then went out into the pottery. It was then she reminded me she's a bit of a perfectionist, confessed she is not as co-ordinated as I thought and dropped the bombshell that she can't copy other people's actions. Seriously? How do you teach something practical to someone who can't copy your actions?
"Don't worry," I said, "Over many years of seeing other beginners on courses I attended, I have never seen any beginner as bad as I was."
The first piece of clay produced a pot, though I had interevened on two or three occasions to 'rescue' it so it was not quite all her own work:
The next few, when Vivien was completely on her own, not so good. But soon it was time for supper and a long, long time talking together, such that we haven't had the luxury of for many years.
The following morning I started by making a pot myself while Vivien had hands on from time to time to find out what it should really feel like. Some more time on her own ... well, read her blog to find out how that went. Suffice to say that by lunchtime I began to think that here was the beginner who would make a worse go of things than I had.
We still had the first pot on the board together with a couple of other vaguely pot-shaped items. So a pot had been thrown. The task had been done. Although .... So finally to the afternoon session of day 2, and this time I didn't touch a piece of clay at all. Instead, I watched and commented (and took photos) as Vivien worked. And then ... drumroll please ... all of a sudden there was a pot.
After which, three more pots of a similar size appeared on the board. So, I still hold the record for the worst ever beginner at throwing. Not only that, Vivien has completed her task, our friendship is entirely undamaged and I had the best time. I'm so glad I said yes.
If you would like to donate to a good cause, please do make a contribution to Alzheimer's Research by visiting Vivien's JustGiving page. It doesn't have to be a large donation but would be really appreciated. Just say 'yes'.
Now I am working part time, one of the main benefits is that I'm able to say yes much more often. Happily, opportunities have also come along to give me the chance to exercise this freedom.
Last week I spent a couple of days teaching a friend to throw a pot. I say a couple of days. We actually had a session on the first afternoon, a short session on the second morning and a third that afternoon. Vivien has set herself a challenge to complete 60 tasks during the year she is 60, to raise money for her two favourite charities. Some of these tasks are relatively short, like spending two days learning enough to throw a pot, but some are longer, like learning to play the saxophone well enough to play a particular riff from a favourite song. Some of the tasks are definitely challenges in themselves; throwing a pot in a short time when you have no previous experience of clay work is one such.
Vivien and I met more than 40 years ago at Eastbourne School of Domestic Economy, where we studied Needlework, Dressmaking, Cookery, Laundry and Housework, (with a side order of Household Accounts plus Typing if you thought you still weren't doing enough). I know her to be someone well able (if a little out of practice) to use her hands to make things so I was happy to offer making a pot as one of her tasks.
I began to worry when Vivien told me she herself was a tad apprehensive. But hey, it was unknown territory, who wouldn't be? I brushed aside my own worried thoughts about whether teaching someone I knew so well over so many years might be as difficult as teaching your partner to drive. We enjoyed a leisurely lunch together and then went out into the pottery. It was then she reminded me she's a bit of a perfectionist, confessed she is not as co-ordinated as I thought and dropped the bombshell that she can't copy other people's actions. Seriously? How do you teach something practical to someone who can't copy your actions?
"Don't worry," I said, "Over many years of seeing other beginners on courses I attended, I have never seen any beginner as bad as I was."
The first piece of clay produced a pot, though I had interevened on two or three occasions to 'rescue' it so it was not quite all her own work:
The next few, when Vivien was completely on her own, not so good. But soon it was time for supper and a long, long time talking together, such that we haven't had the luxury of for many years.
The following morning I started by making a pot myself while Vivien had hands on from time to time to find out what it should really feel like. Some more time on her own ... well, read her blog to find out how that went. Suffice to say that by lunchtime I began to think that here was the beginner who would make a worse go of things than I had.
We still had the first pot on the board together with a couple of other vaguely pot-shaped items. So a pot had been thrown. The task had been done. Although .... So finally to the afternoon session of day 2, and this time I didn't touch a piece of clay at all. Instead, I watched and commented (and took photos) as Vivien worked. And then ... drumroll please ... all of a sudden there was a pot.
If you would like to donate to a good cause, please do make a contribution to Alzheimer's Research by visiting Vivien's JustGiving page. It doesn't have to be a large donation but would be really appreciated. Just say 'yes'.
Saturday, August 22, 2015
Making hay
Making hay while the sun shines is of course about taking opportunities when they're offered. I've been doing quite a bit of that recently as I find out what this phase of my life is shaping up as. I'll write more about the wider opportunities some other time but today I am taking the phrase literally.
When I got up it seemed a pleasant day but when I looked at my favourite (because most accurate) weather forecast site it looked as if the sunshine in the first part of the day was likely to be the last for about six days and furthermore most days we will be getting rain at least part of the day. It was a case of deciding on priorities for the short burst of fine weather.
I am currently in that part of my working cycle in the pottery where I am finishing off making pots in one clay before cleaning up the pottery and starting the other. This means I have boards pleasingly full of dry pots waiting to be fired once I have a good mixture of shapes ready in both clays. I am finishing off with cereal bowls and plates, which take up masses of space on their boards until they are dry, when they can be stacked, so I'm in danger of not being able to make anything else until I can get some things dry. That was therefore the first priority of the day and here we see lots of things on the ware trolley already half dry. As the sun is still shining, I am hopeful that by the time the rain arrives, the bowls will be stackable.
The other thing that has been on my mind is logs. M always collected wood wherever he saw it and I think I have posted photos of various stacks of wood here previously. In the last couple of years he said it didn't matter if there was too much because that would mean there was still firewood if he was no longer able to collect and cut it up or if he died I would still have a couple of winters worth of wood and of course now is that time and I do have plenty of wood to be converted to logs for the winter.
Last autum I was much fetched with a chainsaw bench I saw in a local shop which holds the chainsaw in a clamp and saves you having to hold it. The chainsaw is not very heavy and I am able to use it but there are certainly times when my back would rather not be bending at a low angle while holding a moderately heavy electric implement, so I bought the bench.
Since then there have been other priorities outside. I've got further with the garden, done massive amounts of clearing in sheds and covered ways and generally managed to while away the fine weather we've had. But autumn is definitely approaching. so a couple of weeks ago I got out the bench and tried to set it up. Eventually having summoned the help of an experienced friend we established that it would not work! The handle of the clamp to hold the saw ended up on the wood before the saw did. A couple of phone calls to the company who make the benches established that this can be a problem and there is an alternative handle, which eventually arrived midweek this week. So the other obvious job to start while the sun shone was cutting logs.
Less than half an hour's work. Most enjoyable and satisfying, though disappointing to find how little wood was in the drying area once I got going. M was a master of the diagonal. He loved to chuck things in and didn't care much that if they were diagonal they took up to four times the space they really needed. I'm not sure I'll actually have enough completely dry wood for the winter. For this reason I've stopped the sawing and now I've finished lunch, will give the rest of the dry part of the day over to organising the woodshed so all the dry wood is one side, leaving room for whatever else I saw up later to dry for the next few months. And cross my fingers for a mild winter.
When I got up it seemed a pleasant day but when I looked at my favourite (because most accurate) weather forecast site it looked as if the sunshine in the first part of the day was likely to be the last for about six days and furthermore most days we will be getting rain at least part of the day. It was a case of deciding on priorities for the short burst of fine weather.
I am currently in that part of my working cycle in the pottery where I am finishing off making pots in one clay before cleaning up the pottery and starting the other. This means I have boards pleasingly full of dry pots waiting to be fired once I have a good mixture of shapes ready in both clays. I am finishing off with cereal bowls and plates, which take up masses of space on their boards until they are dry, when they can be stacked, so I'm in danger of not being able to make anything else until I can get some things dry. That was therefore the first priority of the day and here we see lots of things on the ware trolley already half dry. As the sun is still shining, I am hopeful that by the time the rain arrives, the bowls will be stackable.
The other thing that has been on my mind is logs. M always collected wood wherever he saw it and I think I have posted photos of various stacks of wood here previously. In the last couple of years he said it didn't matter if there was too much because that would mean there was still firewood if he was no longer able to collect and cut it up or if he died I would still have a couple of winters worth of wood and of course now is that time and I do have plenty of wood to be converted to logs for the winter.
Last autum I was much fetched with a chainsaw bench I saw in a local shop which holds the chainsaw in a clamp and saves you having to hold it. The chainsaw is not very heavy and I am able to use it but there are certainly times when my back would rather not be bending at a low angle while holding a moderately heavy electric implement, so I bought the bench.
Since then there have been other priorities outside. I've got further with the garden, done massive amounts of clearing in sheds and covered ways and generally managed to while away the fine weather we've had. But autumn is definitely approaching. so a couple of weeks ago I got out the bench and tried to set it up. Eventually having summoned the help of an experienced friend we established that it would not work! The handle of the clamp to hold the saw ended up on the wood before the saw did. A couple of phone calls to the company who make the benches established that this can be a problem and there is an alternative handle, which eventually arrived midweek this week. So the other obvious job to start while the sun shone was cutting logs.
Less than half an hour's work. Most enjoyable and satisfying, though disappointing to find how little wood was in the drying area once I got going. M was a master of the diagonal. He loved to chuck things in and didn't care much that if they were diagonal they took up to four times the space they really needed. I'm not sure I'll actually have enough completely dry wood for the winter. For this reason I've stopped the sawing and now I've finished lunch, will give the rest of the dry part of the day over to organising the woodshed so all the dry wood is one side, leaving room for whatever else I saw up later to dry for the next few months. And cross my fingers for a mild winter.
Monday, August 3, 2015
The long view
We're often encouraged to 'seize the day' and 'live in the present' and I'm in favour of both. Thinking of the phrase reminds me that many years ago I had a commission from a C of E vicar, (not sure why it feels relevant, but somehow the choice seemed surprising at the time) to make a hanging to commemmorate the birth of his granddaughter. Many of my pieces being fishy in those days he wanted "Carpe Diem" with a carp-like fish (and name and birth dates). He was clearly proud of the pun and actually I liked it too. I've probably taken more notice of the sentiment since then.
I think it often doesn't look like this to other people, though, because of my tendency to plan. I love to plan. I like having things I know about in advance to savour before they happen and I think I enjoy them all the more. There is a risk of disappointment, of course, if things don't go to plan, but I am usually either modest in my expectations or perhaps just lucky that plans often do work out for me.
Work plans and goals in particular nearly always do work out. I think this is because I only set achievable goals, though I admit that sometimes they are only barely achieveable and then take a lot of commitment to achieve. A friend once described me as "single minded" about my work. It turns out that working part time doesn't make any difference in this regard: I still feel pretty single minded about what I want to achieve and, if necessary, I still put work first.
My work goals are nearly all taking the long view. There are reasons for this. Exhibitions and other events need to be booked well in advance. I suppose you could ignore this and still make work for them at the last minute, but I don't. I like to have some idea of the mix of work I want available when the time comes. The other, main, reason for taking the long view is my pottery work schedule, which I've written about before. What this means is that since I returned to work in the pottery I have in mind new work for the November exhibition and for Christmas sales, and those are what I am working on now. Things I made a couple of weeks ago won't be finished until possibly October if they are going to be decorated with lustre. I am continuing with most of my usual ranges but also branching out and making just a few here and there of new shapes. You'll have seen the new cake plates and they're on sale now. The others, though, are under wraps until later in the year.
And in a funny sort of way all this still is seizing the day. I ask myself what I would most like to be doing today and try to do it. Most days what I want to do is to work towards a plan or two and that's what makes me happy.
I think it often doesn't look like this to other people, though, because of my tendency to plan. I love to plan. I like having things I know about in advance to savour before they happen and I think I enjoy them all the more. There is a risk of disappointment, of course, if things don't go to plan, but I am usually either modest in my expectations or perhaps just lucky that plans often do work out for me.
Work plans and goals in particular nearly always do work out. I think this is because I only set achievable goals, though I admit that sometimes they are only barely achieveable and then take a lot of commitment to achieve. A friend once described me as "single minded" about my work. It turns out that working part time doesn't make any difference in this regard: I still feel pretty single minded about what I want to achieve and, if necessary, I still put work first.
My work goals are nearly all taking the long view. There are reasons for this. Exhibitions and other events need to be booked well in advance. I suppose you could ignore this and still make work for them at the last minute, but I don't. I like to have some idea of the mix of work I want available when the time comes. The other, main, reason for taking the long view is my pottery work schedule, which I've written about before. What this means is that since I returned to work in the pottery I have in mind new work for the November exhibition and for Christmas sales, and those are what I am working on now. Things I made a couple of weeks ago won't be finished until possibly October if they are going to be decorated with lustre. I am continuing with most of my usual ranges but also branching out and making just a few here and there of new shapes. You'll have seen the new cake plates and they're on sale now. The others, though, are under wraps until later in the year.
And in a funny sort of way all this still is seizing the day. I ask myself what I would most like to be doing today and try to do it. Most days what I want to do is to work towards a plan or two and that's what makes me happy.
Sunday, June 28, 2015
Stonkingly good
Yesterday four friends came round for dinner and at the end of the evening one of them thanked me for a "stonkingly good dinner". What a lovely word. And yes, it was a pretty good dinner.
The friends were two couples who hadn't met before, but they are the only friends currently on my eating together list who will eat - and enjoy - any kind of food at all. My other friends range between only needing to avoid one or two things they don't like to one who is a gluten-free vegetarian, with various levels of 'can't eat, won't eat' in between. In the event, the dinner I cooked would probably have been eaten happily by at least one other friend, but when I was planning the meal I enjoyed having total freedom in what to cook.
We began with a bottle of cheapo French supermarket sparkling white. I still have half a dozen bottles, although I will no longer be able to obtain them once they run out. It currently costs about £1 a bottle, but is so drinkable. I will miss it when I no longer have access to it. My guests had finished theirs by the time I served the starter.
The starter was individual salmon and asparagus tarts served with a garnish of asparagus spears and buttery fried breadcrumbs. I finished my white fizz while others had a little white wine (brought by one of the guests) and one started on the red. I avoided soggy bottoms in my tarts by brushing the blind baked tart bases with a little beaten egg before pouring in the filling to bake.
The main course was duck breasts with a red wine jus, served with small roast potatoes, braised red cabbage and French beans. I'd never cooked duck breasts correctly before, since when I have cooked them, there have usually been people there who would not like them left correctly pink. Would I be able to pull it off this time, with no experience? I think they're one of those things where you have to just trust the instructions and cook for the length of time stated, so I put the duck breasts skin side down in the pan and went back to the dining table, ignoring the increasingly loud sounds of spitting fat coming from the kitchen for 7 minutes. Success. Perfectly crispy skins. Into the oven for 8 minutes, rest for 5 and slice .... to reveal slightly pink. The cabbage was delicious, in spite of my trepidation at using a whole tablespoon of fennel seeds and the jus was a triumph. I adapted the recipe, having found some actual home-made duck stock in the freezer and using lots of juniper berries and redcurrant jelly as well. Most of us drank red (again, brought by guests) while one prefers white with everything.
I love a good dessert wine. A search in the less-used wine rack in the larder, right under the stairs, revealed a bottle of 2002 Sauternes. I know very little about wine, not least how long a dessert wine is likely to remain good in the bottle. It went in the fridge for a few days. When I brought it out, my guests, at least two of whom know a bit about wine, were suitably impressed. I noticed (from a secret code written on the label) that it was the most expensive wine I have ever bought, costing about ten euros about 7 years ago. In the UK, of course, it would be a lot more expensive. To go with the wine we had individual brown sugar pavlovas and little chocolate pots.
For once, my cheesboard did not hold any cheddar. Instead I chose goats' cheese, blue Stilton and a cheese I had not heard of before. To my surprise none of my guests had heard of it either; one friend I think of as knowing most of what there is to know about food and two of the others have a house in France. Still, none of us had heard of Vallage, from the Champagne region of France. It's a soft cheese which tastes like butter. Doesn't sound appealling? The taste is so much better than the description and I noticed that it was the one people kept picking at after they were full.
Three coffees, two teas, and the evening was over. As I expected, everyone got on well and there was plenty of interesting conversation. And a stonkingly good dinner.
The friends were two couples who hadn't met before, but they are the only friends currently on my eating together list who will eat - and enjoy - any kind of food at all. My other friends range between only needing to avoid one or two things they don't like to one who is a gluten-free vegetarian, with various levels of 'can't eat, won't eat' in between. In the event, the dinner I cooked would probably have been eaten happily by at least one other friend, but when I was planning the meal I enjoyed having total freedom in what to cook.
We began with a bottle of cheapo French supermarket sparkling white. I still have half a dozen bottles, although I will no longer be able to obtain them once they run out. It currently costs about £1 a bottle, but is so drinkable. I will miss it when I no longer have access to it. My guests had finished theirs by the time I served the starter.
The starter was individual salmon and asparagus tarts served with a garnish of asparagus spears and buttery fried breadcrumbs. I finished my white fizz while others had a little white wine (brought by one of the guests) and one started on the red. I avoided soggy bottoms in my tarts by brushing the blind baked tart bases with a little beaten egg before pouring in the filling to bake.
The main course was duck breasts with a red wine jus, served with small roast potatoes, braised red cabbage and French beans. I'd never cooked duck breasts correctly before, since when I have cooked them, there have usually been people there who would not like them left correctly pink. Would I be able to pull it off this time, with no experience? I think they're one of those things where you have to just trust the instructions and cook for the length of time stated, so I put the duck breasts skin side down in the pan and went back to the dining table, ignoring the increasingly loud sounds of spitting fat coming from the kitchen for 7 minutes. Success. Perfectly crispy skins. Into the oven for 8 minutes, rest for 5 and slice .... to reveal slightly pink. The cabbage was delicious, in spite of my trepidation at using a whole tablespoon of fennel seeds and the jus was a triumph. I adapted the recipe, having found some actual home-made duck stock in the freezer and using lots of juniper berries and redcurrant jelly as well. Most of us drank red (again, brought by guests) while one prefers white with everything.
I love a good dessert wine. A search in the less-used wine rack in the larder, right under the stairs, revealed a bottle of 2002 Sauternes. I know very little about wine, not least how long a dessert wine is likely to remain good in the bottle. It went in the fridge for a few days. When I brought it out, my guests, at least two of whom know a bit about wine, were suitably impressed. I noticed (from a secret code written on the label) that it was the most expensive wine I have ever bought, costing about ten euros about 7 years ago. In the UK, of course, it would be a lot more expensive. To go with the wine we had individual brown sugar pavlovas and little chocolate pots.
For once, my cheesboard did not hold any cheddar. Instead I chose goats' cheese, blue Stilton and a cheese I had not heard of before. To my surprise none of my guests had heard of it either; one friend I think of as knowing most of what there is to know about food and two of the others have a house in France. Still, none of us had heard of Vallage, from the Champagne region of France. It's a soft cheese which tastes like butter. Doesn't sound appealling? The taste is so much better than the description and I noticed that it was the one people kept picking at after they were full.
Three coffees, two teas, and the evening was over. As I expected, everyone got on well and there was plenty of interesting conversation. And a stonkingly good dinner.
Saturday, June 27, 2015
Letting go
If you're a regular reader or know me in real life, you'll know that my working life has been disrupted over the past couple of years by one thing after another and particularly in the last 9 months. I seem (fingers crossed) to be ok now and able to work in the pottery once more. It's just as well; stock is very low in both shops where I sell and my showroom here at home is getting emptier too. But here's the thing: I'm letting go of the idea that low stock means more work to catch up. It's scary. But it's also right.
Since last April, when I turned sixty and started receiving my small teaching pension, the idea has been that I can now afford to work part time, which should mean the work/life balance improving a bit in favour of life (in the garden, in the kitchen, with friends, etc). In practice there was catching up to do at first, and then life went pear-shaped, but when I was able to work I was still doing so more or less full time. Now, though, the complications seem to be over. I'm back from my travels and have no plans for any long trips in the forseeable. There are some nice events coming up but nothing that takes over. I was looking at throwing myself into the pottery all day and every day in order to try to catch up with stock and orders. But that way, when would I know it was ok to actually work part-time? In reality, one never seems to have done enough, so it was unlikely to happen.
So this week I have drawn a line. I now work part time. I am still alarmingly low on stock and working part time means it will be even longer before I progress through my usual cycle of throwing and drying and then having a batch of firings, but I am letting go of all those thoughts. Letting go of the worry that I won't have enough work to sell. Letting go of the lists of pots I should have made. It's done. Life happened. I wasn't able to work. But now I am. Part time.
It's a bit scary. But I've been self-employed (part time and then full time) for 31 years and I've done ok so far. I'm letting go of previous pressures and putting my faith in my work, whatever direction that takes me next.
Since last April, when I turned sixty and started receiving my small teaching pension, the idea has been that I can now afford to work part time, which should mean the work/life balance improving a bit in favour of life (in the garden, in the kitchen, with friends, etc). In practice there was catching up to do at first, and then life went pear-shaped, but when I was able to work I was still doing so more or less full time. Now, though, the complications seem to be over. I'm back from my travels and have no plans for any long trips in the forseeable. There are some nice events coming up but nothing that takes over. I was looking at throwing myself into the pottery all day and every day in order to try to catch up with stock and orders. But that way, when would I know it was ok to actually work part-time? In reality, one never seems to have done enough, so it was unlikely to happen.
So this week I have drawn a line. I now work part time. I am still alarmingly low on stock and working part time means it will be even longer before I progress through my usual cycle of throwing and drying and then having a batch of firings, but I am letting go of all those thoughts. Letting go of the worry that I won't have enough work to sell. Letting go of the lists of pots I should have made. It's done. Life happened. I wasn't able to work. But now I am. Part time.
It's a bit scary. But I've been self-employed (part time and then full time) for 31 years and I've done ok so far. I'm letting go of previous pressures and putting my faith in my work, whatever direction that takes me next.
Monday, June 22, 2015
Photography
I have recently taken part in a Facebook meme - to post an archive photo on six consecutive days. It was a really interesting exercise.
To begin with I searched through all the photos I am pleased with and made up a short list. The first one I posted was this. I love this picture and wish I could print it out, but unfortunately it no longer exists in any except compressed form as it was part of a big computer disaster which included losing a batch of images. I had uploaded them onto Facebook so am able to retrieve the compressed version but the original is lost. Since then I don't remove photos from my camera until they are saved in at least two places.
The second picture is another personal favourite, taken at Westonbirt Arboretum. After this I began to think about the fact that it was a photo archive challenge and not necessarily about the photos I consider to be my best ones, so I moved from digital photos, which accounts for the last ten years, to those I have in my many albums. Most of these have not kept well. I do have all my negatives (yes, even from 1962) in a filing cabinet and could in theory scan them in to create clear versions of them once more, but I'm probably not going to!
This photo at the Snake Temples on Penang, Malaysia was taken with my first ever roll of film, when I was 8. It doesn't have a huge amount to recommend it as a photo but I wanted to mark the beginning of my interest in photography.
Having got into different types of subject, I looked for a still life. I haven't taken many, but this one is one of my favourites. Getting photos printed in the eighties (and beyond) often resulted in distortions of colour because machines don't like an image to be more or less one colour range and they compensate. This still life was green and white (even the wallpaper was white with a hint of green) but the machine compensated with a pink wash. The print has probably deteriorated in the album as well but I managed to Photoshop it into something I still rather like.
My family first started saying I was a good photographer (which was kind of them) when I got a zoom lens and managed to capture family members unaware because I was standing some distance away. You can often, though not always, get some great shots of people if they don't know you're taking a photo. This one was taken in 2001 and shows a dinner at my house. The two people central to the photo were very close friends who both died within six months of each other in the last 18 months. This is such a happy photo, showing them both 'au naturel', oblivious not just to me but everyone else.
And finally ...
This photo from 2009 was an accident because I initially set out just to photograph the window I had just painted, however it is now one of my favourites. I like the composition of the photo but it is also a picture of a place and time that are very important to me.
Searching through all my old photos has given me yet another nudge to make sure I do more photography. I have ideas. The next task is to set aside some proper time for them.
To begin with I searched through all the photos I am pleased with and made up a short list. The first one I posted was this. I love this picture and wish I could print it out, but unfortunately it no longer exists in any except compressed form as it was part of a big computer disaster which included losing a batch of images. I had uploaded them onto Facebook so am able to retrieve the compressed version but the original is lost. Since then I don't remove photos from my camera until they are saved in at least two places.
The second picture is another personal favourite, taken at Westonbirt Arboretum. After this I began to think about the fact that it was a photo archive challenge and not necessarily about the photos I consider to be my best ones, so I moved from digital photos, which accounts for the last ten years, to those I have in my many albums. Most of these have not kept well. I do have all my negatives (yes, even from 1962) in a filing cabinet and could in theory scan them in to create clear versions of them once more, but I'm probably not going to!
This photo at the Snake Temples on Penang, Malaysia was taken with my first ever roll of film, when I was 8. It doesn't have a huge amount to recommend it as a photo but I wanted to mark the beginning of my interest in photography.
Having got into different types of subject, I looked for a still life. I haven't taken many, but this one is one of my favourites. Getting photos printed in the eighties (and beyond) often resulted in distortions of colour because machines don't like an image to be more or less one colour range and they compensate. This still life was green and white (even the wallpaper was white with a hint of green) but the machine compensated with a pink wash. The print has probably deteriorated in the album as well but I managed to Photoshop it into something I still rather like.
My family first started saying I was a good photographer (which was kind of them) when I got a zoom lens and managed to capture family members unaware because I was standing some distance away. You can often, though not always, get some great shots of people if they don't know you're taking a photo. This one was taken in 2001 and shows a dinner at my house. The two people central to the photo were very close friends who both died within six months of each other in the last 18 months. This is such a happy photo, showing them both 'au naturel', oblivious not just to me but everyone else.
And finally ...
This photo from 2009 was an accident because I initially set out just to photograph the window I had just painted, however it is now one of my favourites. I like the composition of the photo but it is also a picture of a place and time that are very important to me.
Searching through all my old photos has given me yet another nudge to make sure I do more photography. I have ideas. The next task is to set aside some proper time for them.
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