What The Dickens…..

vibrant

Spending an afternoon strolling around the flora and fauna of St Augustine compels one to want to create.  This town feels so organically grown, so free of stereotypes and so open to allowing in the well-to-do vacationers to spend money to their hearts content.

The art community is so plentiful that I dare say it is over-populated with well meaning folks like myself who consider themselves an artist whether or not any one else considers them so.

If art for meditation is what you are looking for–look no further, St. Augustine offers a plan for the sincere to the talented.  Walking with my camera in this town let’s me challenge my concept of beauty at every nook and cranny and corner or circle that I come to.

These are the best of artist and the worst of artists, misquoting Mr. Dickens.  And while we are on the topic of Dickens an image from a Tale of Two Cities comes to mind.  All that glitters is not gold.

For some, the struggle of homelessness is as real here among the tranquil serenity as it is in the sub-ways of grand cities.  Poor is poor; and, as more of us are becoming poorer and poorer, there is an upper-crust of society that is as rich as any previous Guilded Age.

Our delightful, little, oldest city on the continent is no exception.

decay charcoal and color

My fickled brain loves Augustine again, not despite its decay, but because of its decay…impermanence is much easier to swallow in the warm than in the cold.

Quebec–enhanced and edited–Topazed

royal plaza entrance  liquid lines 2notre dame de victoires b& w2mural digital

roo

roo

Each of these photo-paintings–iphotoimpressions, are of French Canada.  You can see how different styles of digital brush strokes and different tonal variations change the intentional entirely.  One image above is an outdoor wall mural.  A painting that feels as if you could walk into that space for how perfect the perspective is.

Roof-top  have been inspired by Matthew Cutter’s work.  He painted a piece called “roof-tops” that is deep and tonal and uses only two colors to render a universal impression.  When I see roof-tops, I see Cutter’s work in my minds eye.

Notre Dame des Victoires—at the Place Royal is a church build in the mid 17th century (1667).  Walking through Quebec’s ancient city along the St Lawrence River is walk in timelessness.  I chose low saturation and no saturation to convey the faded stone work of the period.

Each of these represent a subjective interpretation of where I am in time and space.  I feel transported, only for the moment, but long enough to feel the air that breathes now was the air that breathed then.  The river is perpetually the same while always changing and flowing with new waters….

Ouebec is a wonderland of peace and “adequate” prosperity.  She is fun to capture and more fun to edit.

The Season of Darkness

877 snow tracks,painterly 1

The season of darkness juxtaposed with a bathing of white and light.  After spending the last three years attempting to re-invent myself, I seem to be returning to photography as one of my enjoyable hobbies.  Recently I discovered a different way of editing my images.  The image above represents one manner of developing a digital image out of thousands and thousands of various possibilities.

The process of working in the digital dark room is a process or perpetual choosing.  You can tickle an adjustment or you can tweet an adjustment or you can boldly change the image into something that was not present in the original intention.

The Season of Darkness illustrates for me that a cooling bluish-white image can evolve in a glimpse of warmth.  The brushes that I used on the image were from the series called “liquid-line”.  The process of getting to this image included importing the original image in several software editing programs.

The next several post will reflect the editing process that turns a photograph into a multi-media work of fine art.

I Wonder as I Wander….Quebec, Canada

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roof-tops, quebec, ca

Ahhhh! but the beauty,
the provincial character,
the politeness that is part of everyday life,
the calm and the enchantment that the french have —
i wanted to live there, I wanted to be young— your age;
and have it to do again, not to do it over, but, to do again,
to be here and let the magic of consciousness
be my guide.

“yes,” i said “but quebec was so, so wonderful….”

pastel roofs against the slate-blue, grey, green river,
the snow that falls even as the sun shines,
the clumsy steps, each leading to a new wonder,
a new vista, a new thing of beauty to gaze upon,
a new star on which to hitch my wagon and let
myself be dragged through the consciousness of the universe.

“but,” i thought, “if i choose quebec there are many,
many wonders that I can not choose.”
“choosing you means not choosing all the other wonders,
the ones i have not yet dared to dream—
those sights and sounds and smells that i have yet to meet.

“will my dust be conscious of the green, green, grass of home?”
I paused and thought for a minute—Some secrets are
better kept forever unrevealed?”

I move closer to the glimpse that I had of you
loving me back the way quebec did.”
The blue bites at my unshaved beard freezing the whiskers up to my chin…the green, grass
mingles with salt and snow….
the white fades into a rising fog as I bundled up my neck
against the wind,
unable to keep my feet and hands from the wet chill of melting ice.

leaning against the rail, the ancient city below calmed my inner yearnings.
i was home for the one moment in all eternal time that counts, I was here.
I was here now.
i was here now together with you.

i can never be dissuaded from what i find as beauty.