Since life is to be enjoyed in the moment, I often chase the temporal for a photograph. Here are some ice-designs, which to me looked like organ pipes or choral bells. Taken winter 2006.
*This print will be available by November 20th for sale as a Christmas card, with your choice of these words inside:
It would be helpful if you shot me an email to let me know if you're interested in a boxed set of 12 / 24 / 50 and of what type, so that I can prepare.
Blessed holidays to you and yours!
This photo is taken by specifically disobeying one of the primary rules of photography, something I learned in elementary school: never point your camera or take a photo into the sun (unless of course you're getting a sunset). There's a time and a place for breaking rules and it's pleasant to find out artistically what happens when that is done. One *should* only see an oak tree -- since my body was positioned about an arm's length directly in front of, and focused on, an oak in front of me. Instead we get to see splashes of light, and a direct play with the definition of photography (painting with light).
The title is a theological term. Grace is a deep goodness which the receiver can never deserve. The words put together mean, "A deep goodness coming for us, long before we ever knew we would need it." You won't find the word 'prevenient' in a 'normal' dictionary, just a theological one, by the way~
In a small rural upstate NY town, along a dirt road, I walked to a cemetary, which also had the "remains of a church"--that is, all that was left standing of the building was the face of it (somehow!) and a passerby had obviously picked up the cross from the steeple and placed it against this standing face.
I wanted to play with the words of the title because I think that even believers wonder -- and I am putting a guess out there that the followers of Christ at the time wondered, "what was good on that Friday?" Turns out that theologically speaking, the day used to be referred to as *God's* Friday, but ...I find that it's always good to wonder at life, the seen and unseen, the known and unknown.
This is taken at the Albany Tulip Festival, 2005. Having camera and equipment older than I am (and we won't talk about that), I often play with the environment in ways that anyone can--re-positioning my body, or, as in the case of flower photos, bringing a spray bottle to catch water droplets on a flower, and not 'just' the flower, and also a flashlight to highlight the droplet. I did not have to do either here. It had just rained. The sun took over from there.
I often give this print to a new mother who has struggled previously to conceive, since to me the image looks....well...fertile. Baby ready to drop!
A basic critique of good black and white work is that there is 'true black' and 'true white'. The follow-up negative then (so to speak, pardon the pun), if the photo doesn't have these qualities is, "this is too muddy." Hence, this is both a photographic play...and was the theme print for one of my shows by the same title.
If you are a person who likes devotional / theological writing, feel free to request the words that went with this particular print (for free, but copyrighted). This particular print was for Ash Wednesday, but of course, on its own, as a reflection of light in a puddle, holds its own in art without the words.