The Third Act

Sunday

I finished my first art journal page.  I can't say I'm thrilled...it feels kinda meh to me.  But, it's a learning curve...it's working in a way I haven't before, so I'll give myself some slack

The little Lomo camera for mini Instax film has been pulled out.  Originally, I thought I'd be taking new pictures to use in the journal pages for the first assignment.  Then I realized that I have a stash of appropriate images to fit my needs.  Still, I've been playing with this camera to reacquaint myself with its unique exposure requirements.  I do like the fact that it's so small, I can carry it around on walks, which I'll probably start doing.

It's a gray Sunday.  The sun was supposed to come out, but the cloud cover is being tenacious.  Maybe that's why I'm feeling a bit low.  It was a blessing to be able to Skype with my niece and her friend, and my sister for a while.  Any kind of connection is a good deal in my opinion.

 

 

 

 

Saturday

It rained on and off most of yesterday and through the night.  The air is mild...not cold, not warm, but definitely more humid.  The temps will be a bit higher the next few days, before another cold front sweeps through.  This isn't bad for September going into October.  I can handle this.

I'm waiting on a delivery of more Instax film, some of which will be the mini type.  I'll be incorporating some of these little prints into a larger project. Larger isn't exactly the right word...perhaps more expansive is a better descriptor.

In the mean time, here are another set of Holga images.  Oh, apparently Holga week is coming up too, so I guess I'm in the flow with my efforts.  After that will be 'Roid Week/instant film (in October), and I should be well supplied with Instax film for that.

From a mundane perspective, there's lots to do around the house and I'm trying to wrap my brain around creating some kind of master list.  First thing is to replace the flooring downstairs.  The carpet was pretty mediocre when I moved in over six years ago and after two incidents of significant water seepage from heavy rains, it's pretty bad now.  My efforts today may involve a trip to Lowes and actual discussion with folks about my options.  Sounds like a rather typical Saturday to me.

 

 

 

 

 

reading Joan Didion

I picked up a Joan Didion anthology that I hadn't opened in a while.  It's a massive collection of her stories and articles.  I can't say why, but her writing resonates deeply with me.  Even though she writes about worldly, often political topics, the pieces are always balanced with a real life sense of the mundane.  Her attention to detail delights me...from her descriptions of what it's like to drive around L.A., to the strange juxtaposition of the Cal Berkeley campus and what is Telegraph Avenue (granted, the piece I read yesterday was written in the early 90's...), to what she has had to eat or what's in the refrigerator.  Maybe it's because a lot of her work is about California...L.A., the bay area, Sacramento.  I recognize so much.  There's just something about the way her mind works. 

I'm not a literary aficionado.  I can't pick up just any book and read away.  There has to be a certain quality to the writing that draws me because I can relate to it.  It could be I'm just impatient, my mind races ahead.  It could be I'm looking for some kind of comfort or security.  Whatever it is, I certainly find it in Didion's work.

And speaking of the mundane...more images from around Baba Yaga's house.  TMAX100, developed in Ilfosol3, in the Holga.  Film expired in 1999.

 

 

 

 

new work (18 x 24 inches)

After my satisfaction with the small wet cyanotypes I made the other day, and being inspired by the okra prints (would I have ever considered I'd be inspired by okra in a photographic sense?? well, the blossoms are quite lovely anyway...) I went ahead and made two large prints yesterday.  

The top one is of okra and sassafras leaves.  They speak of the south, don't they?

The lower one is of burdock leaves.  I've been working to get this plant to naturalize in my garden.  The risk with this effort is that the plant, in fact, is a weed!  So there are several burdocks come up in the garden now.  I love how large and robust the leaves get and they were just asking to be immortalized (a bit of anthropomorphizing on my part, sure).  The last image is a detail of the print.  

All of these are wet cyanotypes, with two coats of sensitizer (the first one dried), and lots of lime juice and a sprinkling of tumeric.  The exposure was around five hours in autumn sunshine, moving the panels around when the shadows from the trees moved over.  Something that I'm noticing with these long exposures, when using fresh botanical material, especially something like the wet, sticky okra, is that the paper where the plant matter is placed can get dimpled or creased.  This happened with the okra print, although you can't see it in this picture and it certainly wouldn't be obviously when matted and framed.  At first this really bothered me and I even worked to iron the creases out a bit (but they were tenacious).  Then I decided to look at it as a feature, as another way for the plant to say "I am/was here and this is me!"  I'm sure there's a metaphor in there for life somehow...

 

 

 

autumn

Yesterday was a gorgeous first day of autumn.  It was slightly cooler and drier than normal here in Virginia.  I've noticed some of the trees starting to change color.  It's happening.  That's the thing about nature, it just keeps plugging along.  The light shifts, the weather changes (albeit probably differently than it used to...unpredictability in the predictable), the plants go dormant and life rests.  And boy, don't we all need a rest about now!  

A cord of wood was delivered and stacked yesterday, too.  It's not quite seasoned, but I have some left from last year for the start of wood stove time. That'll be used first.  The thing about the wood, it has a very unique scent.  It's musky yet fresh at the same time.  Definitely earthy.  I've come to associate that smell as a harbinger of seasons changing.  

Letting go.  That's what I'm holding in my consciousness in these days of waning light.  While there's still work to do, no one is going to feel bad about letting go of 2020 (and let me knock wood right now, because I said that about 2019!).  Personally, there's a lot that I'm taking stock of in order to develop a better understanding of what no longer serves.  Autumn is the time for that.

 

 

 

first day of autumn

I was undecided as to what I wanted to put on my blog today.  It's the first day of autumn, and I wanted to ruminate about that.  However, I have these lovely new wet cyanotypes I made yesterday and am excited to share them.  So...perhaps there will be two blog posts today?  Or...maybe I'll blog about autumn tomorrow.  After all, I still need to get more pumpkins and the second truckload of firewood still needs to be delivered (both of which would make lovely photographic subject matter!).

All these pieces are very small works ranging from just under 3" square to about 6" square (with postcard size 4 x 6" in between).  I'm inspired to make a couple larger pieces now and have two full 18 x 24 inch pieces of water color paper coated with cyanotype sensitizer.  Tomorrow, I'll make an additional wet coat and then place the botanicals.  I love using what grows locally, to document the region (mostly), but also what lives on this little plot of land outside my door.

 

 

 

 

seasonal/life transitions

It still feels like autumn, and I'm in love with it.  In a couple days it'll become warmer and a bit wetter, but for now the cool, dry conditions persist.  The sun is shining brightly and I've already got a random selection of small wet cyanotypes exposing out front.  I've been unmotivated to create physical art...for months now, really.  But yesterday I was reading Hi-Fructose magazine (an art quarterly) and it was inspiring to learn about legit artists' practices...even through Covid.  I suppose I shouldn't use the term "legit" should I?  But, the truth is I don't feel legit or completely honest by labeling myself as an artist.  To say I'm a dedicated hobbyist...right now...would be more accurate.  But...I'll not get bogged down in that slurry of rumination.

I can feel the seasonal transition in my body.  Stuff is going on, mostly because of stress levels (at least, that's my take).  It's hard to heal when my body is releasing too much cortisol (lack of sleep...hello).  It's also hard to be present with the continued isolation and uncertainty of these times.  I've no idea when it'll be safe to travel again.  The holidays will be...interesting (sure, I want to put a positive, upbeat spin on the situation, but I can't deny the sadness within).  However, there's no around it, just through it.  For me, that means a constant adjustment, righting myself, resetting healthy patterns and a commitment to the process.  

 

 

 

beautiful evening

I wasn't feeling great last evening, so a fire out back was in question.  In the end, I went for it, and I have to say that was a good choice.  It was lovely to sit and watch the fire and listen to the birds.  The warmth was just right for the chilly air as well.

 

 

 

winter is coming

Well, at least autumn is.  The temperatures were down to the low 50s  by this morning.  There are consistent cool winds and the humidity has dropped.  It's glorious.  I look forward to making a fire in the fire-pit out back this evening.

I'm very sad (and more than a little unnerved) about the passing of Ruth Bader Ginsburg.  She was quite a force, quite a role model.  I think I got used to her rallying round every time her health took a set back, to the point that since I hadn't heard anything in the past week or so, I took for granted her presence.  She hung on as long as she could.  Now we are faced with more uncertainty, but that seems to be the theme of 2020.  I'll honor her spirit by doing my best to keep carrying on and doing my part for justice and equality.

On a different note...there was one sheet of film left in my Lomo Instant.  I was thinking about autumn, the return of energy to the earth, of pulling in, reflecting and nesting for the dark times.  The exposure quirks with this camera are still a bit confounding, but this double was satisfying enough that it needed only one go.  There's another roll of expired black and white film loaded in the Holga, so I'll be making my way through that in the coming days.  Three rolls of color film are off to get processed as well (a couple taken with the Zero pinhole and the other with the Holga).  I also finished up a photo encaustic piece that someone inquired about.  Creative energy is flowing, maybe not gushing, but flowing nonetheless. 

 

technology

Such a love/hate relationship I have with technology.  It's a "can't live with it, can't live without it" situation.  

This morning, I spent a couple hours trying to figure out why my messages wouldn't sync between mobile devices and computers, offloading stuff from my phone so I could update the iOS, spending a good 45 minutes having both iPad and iPhone update, shutting computers and devices off and on and finally, hallelujah(!) success.

Throughout this whole process, I noted my anxiety level rising at each step, facing some sort of existential dread that all my stuff would be lost.  A little bit of attachment...you think?  Granted, I have a different reaction to many challenging circumstances than more normally adjusted people do.  I accept that that's just who I am and work it as best I'm able.  For the most part, I get my shit done.

During my little adventure, I thought about my digital life.  This isn't the first time these thoughts have arisen, especially in recent times.  I'm not a collector, certainly not of most physical things.  But...I do tend to hoard digital files.  Old scans, old digital photos and videos, emails, screen shots, you name it.  While I try to weed things out and offload to external storage destinations, even after that it feels like just too much. Am I ever going to look at this stuff?  What is it that I'm trying to save?  I have physical negatives, prints and instant photos.  I have many, many journals.  I have a box full of drawings and cards from the kids.  Why do I feel the need to hold on to these ephemeral, not really existing objects as well?  

Part of the logic, if you want to call it that, is to remember.  Even though I've been practicing with analog, actual physical materials in my creative life, there seems to be the ongoing digital record that feels...vital (and complete).  Now, I'm not saying it actual is vital, I'm just saying it feels that way.  Did this life not happen if I haven't recorded every moment of it? Of course not.  So, why do I need to keep so much "evidence" and be psychologically buried by my records?  It's a head thing...it's my head thing, I know that.  But every once in a while, it all just feels so very heavy without having any actual substance.

Perhaps, as a goal, I may choose to print more, write more down on paper (or at least print it out on paper), and be selective about what is really important to keep and potentially pass on.  I'm not ready to abandon my phone, or my digital camera, my computers and my very real ability to remain connected to people I care about, but I can be a little less entwined...maybe?

The last couple days (before our long day of rain yesterday) I walked Avery through Pony Pasture Park, rather than just skirting by on the long riverside loop.  I took my Holga and Zeroimage with me the last time.  The Holga was loaded with Fomapan 400, but I grossly misjudged the light in the woods (yes, yes, I know I should meter...) and most of the negatives are far too unexposed.  These three (one isn't the woods but instead my creative space), however, are just right...and they're a nice record and reminder of the day, of this journey into autumn, in this very strange year of 2020.