Milestones and archives
(The post title has been stolen flatteringly copied from isoglossia.com for the obvious reason that it works for me as well as overlaps with their post.)
Recently I started getting emails and comments from people about my upcoming 10,000th photo on Flickr. What was I going to do for number 10,000? It had better be good. Etc.
These inquiries came along at about the same time that I decided to start getting a grip on what I photograph, what I upload, how I store said photographs, and how I back them up. Let’s be honest: 10,000 photos in less than two years is ridiculous. The reason for them is that I have been on a steep photography learning curve since March 2006 and have, therefore, just thrown almost all of the photos up there for lack of any idea what else to do with them. I have had a very difficult time deciding how I should feel about these things I have created.
I mean, is photography art? Most people would say no. Most of my photography certainly isn’t art but perhaps some of it is. I saw a documentary recently about photography in which someone stated that photography is art only if the photographer has a particular vision. Photography is also, by its nature, documentary. We document our families, journeys, pets, loves, hates, obsessions, anxieties, desires, hobbies, and everything else.
Photography is the closest I have come to having an artistic outlet. I don’t claim my photography is art or that I am an artist because I’m really not. I do think that whatever artistic inclinations I have are best expressed through a (digital) camera lens. The other available media are, frankly, too much goddamned work. I derive a great deal of satisfaction from a good photo. I know (usually) when I have really captured something important or beautiful or unusual or … whatever it is that resonates so clearly with not only me but also you. Sometimes you and I don’t agree about what is a good photograph. I cannot tell you how many times I have posted something to Flickr as almost an afterthought only to have unexpected praise heaped upon it. My favorites aren’t necessarily your favorites.
I’m sorting out a system for editing and storing1 the photos that really mean a lot to me. For all those thousands of photos, only a fraction of them are terribly important to me. And while I could simply trim my Flickr account back to those few, I don’t think I will. Some of those are there for you and maybe even for me.
That being said, I deleted 417 photos this morning, so the 10,000 goal is further away than you thought.
1. This involves iPhoto, GraphicConverter, Picnik, judicious and ruthless deleting, the external hard drive I now own, self-discipline, and some common sense.
Ain’t no use in jivin’
Yesterday as Ogre and I walked from the parking lot to the front door of the Harris Teeter, we almost caught up to an older wiry gentleman with a buzz cut and a leather jacket. Right before we pulled even with him, he turned slightly to the right and started addressing the flock of starlings lurking in the cluster of shopping carts. As they suddenly rose and flew toward him he said to them, “Come here. I need to speak with you guys.” Ogre and I continued through the flock and toward the store entrance. As we passed through the automatic doors, we both looked back to see him addressing the flock that had settled on the ground in the grassy area beside the parking lot. They appeared to be listening intently. I can only assume he gave them good advice.
I wholeheartedly agree
“It is the mark of the religious mind that it cares more about private than public morality. As the bumper sticker slogan put it, ‘When Clinton lied, nobody died.’ Officially, Bill Clinton was impeached not for sexual misconduct but for lying about it. But he was entitled to lie about his private life: one could even make a case that he had a positive duty to do so. Tony Blair should have been impeached for lying to the House of Commons about alleged evidence for weapons of mass destruction, because his lies persuaded Members to vote for a war when they otherwise would not. Lying to Congress by saying, ‘I did not have sex with that woman’ should not be an impeachable offense, because where a man puts his penis is none of Congress’s damn business. Nor is it any journalist’s damn business whether a politician once took drugs at university. Or whether he is gay.”
Thank you, Richard Dawkins. As the presidential campaign season kicks into high gear here in the U.S., I am bracing myself for all the bullshit red herring issues that will hijack each and every conversation about the candidates.
Seduction and indifference
“There is a tendency in philosophy to separate the mind, the intellectual operations, from the passions, the emotions. This tendency moves into psychology, and thence into neuroscience. The neuroscience of music, in particular, has concentrated almost exclusively on the neural mechanisms by which we perceive pitch, tonal intervals, melody, rhythm, and so on, and, until very recently, has paid little attention to the affective aspects of appreciating music. Yet music calls to both parts of our nature—it is essentially emotional, as it is essentially intellectual. Often when we listen to music, we are conscious of both: we may be moved to depths even as we appreciate the formal structure of a composition.”
-Musicophilia, Oliver Sacks
Let us all gather round and share our pimento (pimiento) cheese recipes!
I’ll start.
Here’s mine, which is really RJ’s, which she really got from a magazine (with
modest notations from yours truly):
- 4oz cheddar, grated (sharpness dependent on your mood)
- 1 small jar pimento (pimiento)
- 1-2 Tbs. of finely chopped green onions (again, up to your mood)
- 1/4 tsp. Old Bay Seasoning (or cayenne pepper if you are into that, which I am sometimes but my great aunt is not)
- 4-5 Tbs. mayo
- Salt and pepper to taste
- Maybe a drop or two of the pimento juice
Mix until it is to your liking and refrigerate until ready to eat. (Alternately, eat directly out of bowl without refrigerating. Make sure the bowl is large enough to accommodate your noggin when you decide to lick said bowl clean.)
Underachiever
I’m not really bringing my “A” game to NaBloPoMo. I could, I suppose. I could write about all sorts of deeply insightful, raw, personal stuff. Lord knows I’ve got plenty of that stuff weighing me down right now (just like everyone else). I could simply channel all of it—my anxiety about employment, about letting my family down, about being what I have always suspected I am: a trifling sort of failure—into a post about how much I don’t like the short days and longs nights of this time of year, about how cold weather makes me anxious, about my very likely SAD. I think I have covered that ground before, though.
Naturally, I am too lazy to look it up.
There’s also the fact that if I do write about that stuff, and even mentioning it here counts I suppose, I will be deluged with messages and comments telling me to turn that frown upside down or get a life. Both of which are basically good advice but neither of which actually do anything to help me.
My most immediate wish is to get shed of this goddamned sinus headache that is actually to the point of causing nausea, which does wonders for my already foul mood. And then, perhaps, I would like a pimento cheese sandwich.
And some iced tea.
And a piece of chocolate cake.
Please.
There’ll be music everywhere
“Brainworms are usually stereotyped and invariant in character. They tend to have a certain life expectancy, going full blast for hours or days and then dying away, apart from occasional afterspurts. But even when they have apparently faded, they tend to lie in wait, a heightened sensitivity remains remains, so that a noise, an association, a reference to them is apt to set them off again, sometimes years later. And they are always nearly fragmentary. These are all qualities that epileptologists might find familiar, for they are all strongly reminiscent of the behavior of a small, sudden-onset seizure focus, erupting and convulsing, then subsiding, but always ready to reignite.”
-Musicophilia, Oliver Sacks
As per usual, Oliver Sacks has produced a wonderfully interesting book. I haven’t finished it yet but several things have already resonated with me including the above. Does everyone hear music all the time? Does everyone experience, more specifically, the above pattern? I have always assumed yes to both since they are normal for me but apparently, while they are fairly common, they are not universal.
Do you hear music all the time? Is it always what you’d like to hear? Personally, I’ve been trying to ditch this extremely annoying jingle for what seems like 30 years.
Rain and fog
Dad and I got out in the rain and walked around taking photos yesterday. Because we’re geniuses.
(The first two photos are mine; the last one is Dad’s.)
