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Do you still read?

October 17th, 2013

I have lots of books. Mostly about art, photography, geology and linguistics as well as specific histories of things I am fascinated with, namely ancient Egypt and my ancestors, the Vikings. I also have collected several biographies, mostly of artists I admire.

I used to love diving into a book on a subject I find interesting and I read constantly for years.

Now, not so much. I WANT to read. It’s one of my joys in life, but with the advent of the internet and the fact that a very large portion of my job for many years consisted of proofreading for up to fourteen hours a day for two or three months straight, has kind of put me off my reading feed. I have a pile of books sitting next to my bed because I think I want to read about one thing, then the next day I jump to something else, and so they pile up half read and abandoned.

The only books I have read through from beginning to end in the last couple of years have been murder mysteries by my two or three favorite authors when they come out in paperback, but those only last five hours or so.

Have I become lazy? Why can’t I get back to my books? My work life right now still requires some proofreading, but not nearly as much as it did previously.

I think part of my problem is I have tuned to the internet, and oddly, my phone for entertainment the last few years. I play a couple of word games on my phone almost obsessively instead of reading words in books. I lurk on internet forums and read comments that sometimes inspire me and sometimes enrage me, but usually don’t enrich my life or teach me anything.

I’m reminded of a phrase someone used once, and I can’t remember the source or what the main subject was, but the phrase was “the dumbing down of America”. I read an article a couple of years ago about how college entrance essay exams have become alarmingly bad as far a spelling and grammar are concerned, and that’s easy to understand when you consider the fact that most people under 30 in this country communicate mostly by texting or tweeting using texting shorthand (which I really hate, except for maybe “LOL”), and they can’t construct an entire cohesive paragraph because they are usually restricted to 140 characters at a time.

I may pick up a book this weekend - perhaps that two-volume biography of Matisse, volume one of which I’ve been mostly through for the last couple of years.

Do you still read?

When I Grow Up....

October 6th, 2013

Did you even wonder where you would be if you had taken certain paths in life, or what you would be doing now if you were exposed to certain professions at an early age? What did you want to be when you grew up when you were about 10 years old?

I wanted to be an architect. Of course, there were no architecture courses in grade school or high school and when I found out early on I had the typical “math phobia” and algebra was as dense as a black hole for me, I pretty much gave up that idea. Oh, I’m not stupid - I did well in geometry, but geometry back then dealt mostly with letters (angle A in relation to angle B) and it made sense to me. However, I could never figure out when the train would arrive in Chicago at 40 mph in relation to the train leaving 45 minutes later going 50 mph. If you held a gun to my head and told me to figure it out, I would be a dead woman.

A turning point for me was when they started experimenting in the 1950’s with giving foreign language classes to us 9-year olds and we were asked to pick either Spanish or French. I chose Spanish. This wasn’t the one-hour-a-week thing they did in most school systems where a teacher came in for an hour a week and taught everybody how to say “apple” and “house” in another language. This was full-on grammar and writing and having rudimentary conversations. I found out I had a knack for it and it wasn’t difficult for me to conjugate verbs and memorize vocabulary lists. Since I was also one of the only people in my English class in junior high who could diagram a sentence correctly (they stopped doing that well before my kids were in school) and could sit and read a novel while everyone else retook the test, I figured language was apparently my calling.

I ended up getting a degree in Spanish language and literature with a minor in French literature, and I work in the translation industry, not as a translator, but I handle the material that comes in, proofread some of the completed translations in my two languages and pinch-hit translating things to English occasionally when necessary.

The only other class that absolutely fascinated me in college was Earth Science. Yes, Earth Science! My second calling after the architecture thing would have been geology. If they had sent a geologist into my grade school to explain earthquakes, volcanoes, rock formations, etc., I would be out in the field somewhere, or in charge of a seismographic facility or in a lab doing research. That profession (and all its off-shoots) would have been worth a math tutor to obtain (have you ever seen the math formula for Richter scale calculations?).

I have books on volcanoes, earthquake science, basic geology, earth systems, rocks, minerals, etc. I understand how they figure out the strength and type and epicenter of an earthquake. I’m familiar with various types of volcanoes. I have a book on the geology of all the national parks, and several books from specific parks about the geologic history of the park in question. I’ve been to Hawaii Volcanoes National Park twice and I could happily spend two entire weeks there and ignore the rest of the island. I have been to the Badlands, Colorado National Monument, Bryce and Zion Canyons and Acadia. I’ve been to Glacier National Park, Rocky Mountain National Park and the Cascades. I find the terrain and the history fascinating. I mean, when you’re on the highway driving past massive diagonal slabs of rock through which they have cut the roadway and can see the striae and the various layers of deposits accumulated throughout millions of years, how can you not be in awe of the forces that were necessary to tilt tons and tons of solid rock to that angle? I’m baffled by the fact that the continental-drift theory was only validated and accepted in the 1960s. It’s a young science about really, really old things.

It’s too late for me to become a geologist or earth scientist, and I don’t regret the choices I’ve made. After all, we could have all gone in several directions in life and there’s no sense in complaining, but I sometimes wonder where I would be now and what I would be doing if I were an expert in geologic formations, ground water flow and topography. Maybe it’s just as well I ended up where I am. I might have ended up working for an oil company that’s raping the land and I would grow to hate my job. Maybe it’s better I can just study the subject at my leisure (and not have to do the math).

Where would you be now if you had taken a different path? Do you ever wonder? Did you ever make a choice then ponder the life-path circumstances brought forth by that choice? Do you regret where you are? I don’t, but I still find it interesting to think about from time to time.

Yeah, but...

September 7th, 2013

I have been inspired by many people throughout the years. Artistically, I love Georgia O’Keeffe and Louise Nevelson as female role models, but many times someone who jolts me out of my daly stupor is someone who has nothing to do with the arts but is a high achiever in another discipline. Over the Labor Day weekend I didn’t listen to the news at all, so Tuesday morning on my way to work, I heard on the radio that Diana Nyad had finally made her Cuba to Key West crossing. I was surprised, amazed, proud for her and inspired in one quick blow. I mean the woman is a year older than I am, for heaven’s sake. I’ve been breathing hard when I carry the laundry up from the basement. I’ve been stress eating. I’ve been popping the ibuprophen for joint pain, and all I could think of to say to myself when I heard this news is “You wuss!!”

I used to jog. I did it for probably 15 years. Then, when I started having a touch of arthritis pain, I switched to walking because it was easier on the joints. I walked a mile and a half at night (I work full time) about 4 days a week, and I did a full 3 mile walk one day on the weekend. I also continually did yoga stretching to keep all the muscles around my arthritic joints stretched out.

Then came overtime. Then came personal family tragedies and responsibilities and the exercise, except for the yoga, went out the window. The entire time I knew I would sleep better and be less stressed if I would just walk around the block, but somehow I just couldn’t get myself out that door. Hell, I used to walk in snowstorms and I’d walk in the street when there was ice on the sidewalk. I’d walk with an inhaler for the cold-induced asthma. What happened? People always say when you ask them why they didn’t finish that course they were taking or why they didn’t take that trip, or why they didn’t do some life-challenging thing they had been talking about for years “Oh, life happened”. What does that even mean? I understand if there’s a financial emergency that would make a person cancel a trip and other things happen that can derail plans, but what’s my excuse for not going out at night and walking a mile?

When my daughter moved home for a year, she and I joined the local YMCA briefly. I went with her about 4 times and we did laps in the pool. The first time, I could go across the pool and back and I would have to stop and catch my breath (back stroke and breast stroke. My free style or “front crawl” isn’t very good). The second time we went, I was able to swim about 4 lengths, pause briefly, swim 4 more, etc. The 3rd and 4th time we went, I could swim about 6 laps before pausing for a minute, then 6 more and I did that for about 40 minutes. The point being I know I could probably easily walk several miles if I slowly build up the muscles around my one arthritic hip, and I know specific yoga exercises to do that, so what’s my excuse? The entire time my daughter and I were taking care of my dying parents, those four trips to the pool were the only 4 nights I slept really well. What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with any of us who actually know how to mitigate the stress in our lives and we say “Yeah, but....” What’s with the big “BUT”? And speaking of butts, I refuse to let mine spread any wider.

Diana Nyad, if you can swim 112 miles in 52 hours, or whatever the hell it was, at the age of 64, I can certainly walk a mile or more every night at the age of 63. You have put me to shame. You have also given me hope that I can shake off this complacency and stop saying “Yeah, but...” and I vow to change. Today.

Language

August 18th, 2013

After being in the language business for...well, forever, I’ve noticed from lurking in the forums that everyone has their own writing style and their way of expressing themselves. I think I personally come across as friendly and open. Others come across as egocentric and condescending. Still others seem hyper-sensitive as if every generic disparaging remark made is directed at them personally. There are others who write i what I assume they perceive as an esoteric and insightful manner that is in reality convoluted and annoying.

Sometimes it’s amusing, sometimes it’s annoying, but it’s always interesting.

I was thinking recently about the subtleties in a language that are the last thing a foreign speaker learns and may never grasp completely. I’ve studied Spanish for many years and speak fluently so I have a good idea what “machismo” and “gracia” (as opposed to “gracias”, meaning “thanks”) really mean, but there are subtleties buried in there that, as a non-native, I may never grasp. It’s kind of like when someone dismissively says “Whatever!” in the middle of an argument in English. As native speakers, we know to be dismissive and insulting, it has to be said in a particular way.

Years ago, I worked with a woman who grew up speaking both Polish and English so she was a native speaker of both, but what amused me (and I wish I had written these down) was she was like the “Ziva” character on NCIS - always mixing her metaphors in English. The one I remember was a mixture of “That really grinds me” and “That drives me up a tree” to express annoyance, which in her case came out as “That really grinds me up a tree”. Ok - close enough - at least she got her point across.

I was also thinking the other day about some of the sayings we, as English speakers hold near and dear that we have gleaned from popular media - mostly the movies. Anyone that says “I’ll be back” with a slight Austrian accent knows exactly where it came from.

I sometimes notice lines from moves or tv shows that make me stop and think “what was the writer thinking when he/she wrote that?” My personal favorite is a line from the original Star Trek series where Kirk and Spock beam covertly over to a Romulan vessel to try and steal the cloaking device. Spock gets caught, and he asks the Romulan commander “What is your current form of execution?” The Romulan commander’s response is “Our current form of execution is both painful (pause here) and unpleasant.” Think about that one for a minute....

I recently joined an Italian company and my boss emailed me about something the other day (his English is pretty good), and the last thing in the email was “...then you can ride your own horse”. I sent him back an “LOL” and “That must be translated from an Italian expression”. I’m still not quite sure what he meant. We have also discussed similar expressions - they have one that I can’t recall but it’s clearly parallel to our “closing the barn door after the horses have escaped” referring to some preventative measure taken after the disaster has already occurred.

Then there is George Bush. He even makes fun of himself. I bought a book of “Bushisms” once. I was sitting on my bed reading it and my husband came into the bedroom to see if I was laughing or crying. Tears were streaming down my face and I couldn’t speak. I will leave you with a quote to ponder: “Security is the essential roadblock to achieving the roadmap to peace.” - George W. Bush, Washington D.C. July 25, 2003.

Looking at the Small Picture...

August 11th, 2013

Looking at the Small Picture...

As a photographer, I’m always looking at the big picture - the vast landscape, the interesting building, the famous bridge, the sweeping panorama - but I’ve found more and more, looking at the “small picture” instead of the “big picture” gives me the most satisfying images and the images that, for me, hold more interest.

Everyone likes the beautiful pastoral scene with waving golden wheat and fluffy clouds, or the night view of a cityscape with all the building lit up and stark against the night sky, but it takes a little more observation to notice the small, the interesting “piece” of something; the texture and pattern on a rock, the diaphanous wings of an insect, the sand patterns on the beach formed by wind and wave. Even though I’ve only sold two closeup images, and those were sold as greeting cards, I find myself more and more drawn to the tiny, the hidden, the abstract and the generally unnoticed.

The beauty in the rusted patterns on the side of a dumpster can be as interesting as the images of a babbling brook. The texture of an old wood plank with its stark grain and old knots are images that make me want to pause and look closer. Old, weather-worn paint, abstractions of wood grain, crystal facets in the sun, a spider web covered with dew, the life line in the palm of a hand - life is in the details.

I’ve noticed some artists and photographers are drawn to the same things and invariably, those images in their portfolios that concentrate on the abstract piece of a larger thing have fewer views than their more “traditional” work. I always try and leave a comment if I’m drawn to the work. Often, mine is the only comment on this lonely “outcast” image.

I would encourage anyone who reads this blog to pay attention to the smaller things when looking through other people’s portfolios. Celebrity portraits, animals and sweeping seascapes don’t have to be the only popular items here. Let’s also support the “less seen but also beautiful” art of the tiny and hidden by commenting on and voting for those small things we find beautiful.

At What Cost?

August 3rd, 2013

At what cost does it take to be the best you can be at something? No matter what it is, there’s always a high cost, either emotionally, financially, or in time spent. Often the cost is all three.

Take someone who wants to train for a marathon and be the fastest, most efficient runner possible. Of course, the serious person is either going to hire trainer or do all the reading he or she can about how to train safely, how to build up to longer runs, how to eat, what shoes to buy, where to run when there’s snow and ice outside, when to suspect actual injury over normal soreness, etc.

The person who wants to be a concert pianist practices hours a day and studies under a qualified instructor. The guy who want to get to the master level at chess will study game after game - openings, mid-games and end games and will continually play someone with a higher ranking in order to improve their skills.

I fail to see, then, given this common sense approach to anything, why someone thinks they can become a brilliant artist over night, whatever the discipline. Oh, there is certainly instinctive talent in any discipline - the kid who remembers legal chess moves without any formal instruction after watching several games. The swimmer with the perfect body type - broad shoulders and narrow lower body. The outsider artist who eccentrically decorates his walls with thousands of different-colored bottle caps in an interesting, and instinctively well-composed pattern.

But these people are exceptions. They are few and far between. I see over and over again works of photographers that don’t even come close to following any established rules, who are blind to flaws which are obvious to anyone who studies their work. For example, a sharp photo of the lilies in their garden, with the dirt clumps far below the lilies in equally sharp focus which in effect ruins the shot. Or the guy that doesn’t see the fence post in the background growing out of someone’s head in the foreground. Yet when they ask for a critique of their work, they retreat and sulk in a corner when the obvious flaws are pointed out to them.

Being in love with a work you created because of the colors contained therein, but being blind to the blotch that was on your lens or the entire bright, blown-out section of the image (which can work in some shots) is like being in love with someone because you remember a time when he didn’t beat you daily. It’s a state of denial. In order to improve, you truly have to look at your “children” objectively.

I have a few ugly offspring still in my gallery that I have not deleted because they were some of my first born - but the ones that were embarrassingly poorly composed or were technically horrible are gone, with the exception of one or two that still get a lot of views. I know I should put them out of their misery - but I can’t quite kill them off yet.

At any rate, back to the original question, I think the cost of making good art is time, a good deal of study, a grasp of basic artistic rules and principals and knowing when it’s ok to break those rules, and one of the most important costs, you have to sacrifice your ego. That doesn’t mean you accept a critique from someone if their critique is based solely on personal preference, or taste in art, but if someone points out the big, ugly, glaring pimple in your image, shove your ego down where it belongs and pay attention to the criticism. Most importantly, study what you did wrong and don’t repeat it. Keep learning.

How time flies....

July 13th, 2013

I turned 63 yesterday. It made me take a stroll down memory lane. You may remember these (not necessarily in chronological order):

- The invention of the hula hoop
- The invention of the frisbee
- The “invention” of the pet rock - geeze, I wish I had thought of that one
- - The invention of color TV
- The launching of Sputnik - the way my mom reacted to that one, I thought we were all going to die in a nuclear explosion. Or even worse, I would have to duck and cover at school in my good skirt.
- The Zaner Bloser method of penmanship - Those pens were way too fat for 10 year olds.
- Learning my colors in kindergarten. Aren’t they doing calculus in kindergarten now?
- Party lines - you had to wait to make a call until your gabby neighbor got off the phone.
- The Alaska earthquake of 1964
- Mimeograph machines - Ah the fumes....
- The invention of the electric typewriter.
- The death of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
- The death of John Kennedy
- The death of Robert Kennedy
- The ice truck man - he gave us all ice chips to suck on in the summer.
- Glass milk bottles delivered to the milk chute.
- Aluminum Christmas trees - now whose idea was THAT one? (my parents still had one when I cleaned out their house).
- The invention of pantyhose
- Leisure suits - I can’t believe my husband actually owned one of those awful things. Blue ployester ... GAWD.
- The dreaded and dreadful “saddle shoes” that were supposed to correct our arches. Yeah, right. I’d like to find the person who invented those and make him wear a leisure suit every day for the rest of his life.
- The jocks, the greasers, and the rest of us.
- Bubble hairdos - My high school group photo looks like a bunch of furry aliens.
- Granny dresses (yes, I wore those)
- Bell bottoms (yes, I wore those too)
- Head bands (no, I never wore one of those)
- Vietnam POW bracelets - I did have one of those for a soldier named Murphy (I don’t remember his rank) - fortunately, he came home.
- President Johnson on tv saying he would not run for a second term
- Fizzies
- Sweet Tarts
- Slo Pokes
- Soda fountains in the pharmacies
- Department stores with elevator attendants in white gloves and pill-box hats
- Studebakers - (Interesting - my spell checker doesn’t recognize the word “Studebaker”)
- Princess phones

And my very favorite - the first moon walk - I was 19 and kept going outside during the live broadcast and looking up at the moon in amazement.

I could probably come up with a hundred more, but these are the ones that pop into my head as I write this. Some good, some bad, all unforgettable.

My dad died last year at 94. Can you imagine what his list would have on it? His first car was a model T. His first toilet was out doors and he wore a dress until he was one year old. His brother (my uncle) had polio, his mother (my grandmother) died in the famous Spanish flu epidemic in 1918-1919. They plowed the fields with a hose-drawn plow and heated the house and cooked with wood.

When he died, he had 4 computers, most of which were severely infected because he still trusted everybody and opened everything he got in his email. My son and I knew there was a problem again when we started getting strange emails from his computer.

Can you imagine what kind of technology will be out there when our grandchildren are old? They probably won’t know how to read cursive writing (which, in my opinion, is a bad thing) and they won’t know how to type (which is not a bad thing) and their vehicles will all run on batteries.

I see the future like everyone else - happy to see the eradication of disease and advances in knowledge about the human body and the cosmos, and sad I can no longer sit at that soda fountain with my mom and have a root beer float with home-made vanilla ice cream, watching the soda jerk with the white hat making concoctions for his patrons.

Artists, their work and the way they present it

June 29th, 2013

Have you ever been in love with the contents of an artist’s work by their style of presentation bothers you too much to enjoy it?

For example, I grew up in the 50s and 60s and went to college in 1968 and was a big Dylan fan. I had a couple of his albums, but I finally gave them away to a friend because I couldn’t stand his voice even through his writing was superb. (I’ve since learned to enjoy him a little more - probably for the nostalgia).

I have a well-known book designed to help artists get over creative block. The premise is good and the ideas are sound, but instead of giving two or three examples of why you should do something a certain way, this author presents 10 examples in one sentence and I find it exasperating and tedious. I can’t get through the entire book and I finally gave that away as well. The writing style just ruins the book for me.

I also get irritated with (mostly) younger artists who think bodily functions and gratuitous violence or nudity or political stances that could be considered fringe ideas make good art. A lot of them are convinced they are the first to present the idea in question, and are making a name for themselves, are brilliant, innovative and are pushing boundaries, when all their art really is, is tedious and ugly.

Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy nude art and there’s nothing wrong with making a political statement - but I don’t want a photo or a painting of someone being tortured on my living room wall. It’s like saying to a vegetarian “here - I want you to eat this plate of liver and onions - it’s good for you and will enrich your life and I’m doing you a huge favor by giving it to you so you’d better eat it” and then get insulted and think you’re rude and a fool to refuse to partake.

Hubris. Ego. Thanks, but no thanks.

There are also artists I greatly admire for their talent and skill, but I just can’t look at their art, which is related to the torture reference above. For example, the German artist Kathe Kollwitz, in my estimation, was one of the most brilliant draftsmen who ever lived, but she was surrounded by death, war and starvation so that was her subject matter. I can’t get myself to buy a book of her charcoal drawings, as expertly done as they are, and as astounding as her talent was. The subject matter is just too close to modern history and too disturbing for me to enjoy the talent behind the work. I wouldn’t hang any of Goya’s dark paintings either, but that’s just me.

I’ve had enough struggles and distress in the last few years. Give me art free from sorrow. Art that will give my soul rest and peace. You can be brilliant as an artist and present beautiful creations without throwing acid in someone’s face. All that does is show people how self-centered you are.

None of the opinions above are meant to include art I simply don’t like. Everyone’s taste is different, which makes for an interesting and diverse art world which is as it should be. Just don’t show me a photo of someone removing a tampon (Judy Chicago) and tell me it’s brilliant art. I’m not that gullible.

Koyaanisqatsi

May 19th, 2013

I feel like I’m living in a version of Koyaanisqatsi lately. My life is out of balance. Several years ago, I had a routine down of walking every night. I went on regular mini-vacations and I had a busy work life and plenty of energy.

Then the bad stuff started happening and went on for about 6 years. I feel like someone hit me with a baseball bat and I’ve been dizzy ever since. Like a compass needle near a magnetic source - unable to center on true north. It’s uncomfortable and hard to rectify.

There is nothing mysterious here - I’m aging, my joints hurt, my life circumstances have changed and my spirit has retreated inside myself in an effort to avoid any more hurt, but that very condition is throwing me even more off balance. I look at other people who have been through life traumas - the Boston Marathon bombing victims for example, whose lives have been thrown even more off balance than mine and they (at least outwardly) pick up and go on. The young women in Ohio who were held captive - well thinking of them I have absolutely nothing to complain about. Even knowing that, however I have trouble taking physical action to center myself and do what I need to do to right my psyche.

Today, I will not turn on the TV. I will go to the local beach and take some photos, and then just sit and watch the water. I will make myself take a walk and exercise these old, painful hips. I will be very mindful of what I eat and I will stay “in the moment”.

Life is about balance. I need to get mine back before it’s so out of whack, I turn into the strange old lady on the block that mumbles to herself and stares at the sidewalk.

Ego and the Threads

April 6th, 2013

I have been joining the discussion threads a lot more often and I’m enjoying them for the most part. I would like to thank FAA for having moderators who are active and participate themselves, and who keep the threads civil for the most part.

On the other hand, I have noticed a few times that a relatively new member to the site will come into the threads with the idea that they are the best thing since sliced bread, their work is superb and they are willing to tell you so and if you don’t follow their particular work procedures, your work is crap and if you have anything good posted, you achieved the results by accident.

BUNK

I am a photographer, so I notice this more in the photography threads because I follow them more often than the threads about other media, but I’m sure there are some of those people who work in other media as well.

Here’s my deal: My ego is in tact. I keep improving as a photographer the more I work, and I’m not embarrassed to ask for an opinion on a work and I can take the criticism or the praise as long as it’s honest and not condescending or over the top gushing. Several members of this site have given me help with technical questions and thoughts on a particular work. Some of them are more blunt than others, but I respect their opinion or I would not have asked in the first place, and one person in particular (I will not name names) always provides a REASON for a harsh critique of something that is spot on. This is not disrespect, it’s honesty. I can appreciate that.

What I don’t appreciate are people who think I’m not a serious photographer because 1) I have never studied formally 2) I have never memorized shutter speed to aperture ratio charts 3) I don’t process my photos a certain way.

When I used to paint in oils, I was a “traditional” oil painter. That is, I would paint the background, let it dry for a week, paint some more elements, let it dry for a week, etc. I would never tell someone who completes a work in a day working wet on wet that their work is crap (it may be crap, but not because of the working method). Instead, I’m in awe they can paint that way successfully because I could never master that technique.

Bottom line - it’s fine to have a healthy ego about your work, but don’t go around telling people they will never amount to anything because they don’t work like you do. I have perused the galleries of people who come into the discussions with this kind of attitude and almost to a person, their work, to me, looks “over-cooked” in whatever software they are using.

Just an opinion.

 

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