ferry terminal

Back in the day I’d roam the streets with my 25-year-old Pentax K-1000, desperate to find something INTERESTING.

I loved those photography courses. Photojournalism, darkroom, abstract. It seems so far away to me now, the prospect of self-betterment just for the fun of it, sitting here typing one-handed, jiggling baby number two.

These assignment shots make me hopelessly nostalgic, sniffing the five-year-old fumes of the fantasy of disposable time. Wandering, subject-hunting, answerable to no one. All snow-capped peaks and Chinatown scenes and whales from my kayak as opposed to today's snotty noses and 'spwinkle'-laden birthday cakes. Sure, I didn't have inspiration like this. Or this. But I sure do miss those creative excursions.

I remember lying on my stomach on a pile of rusty metal garbage in the rain, stalking. Chin to the pavement, facing the gloomy underside of a shipbuilding trailer on the North Vancouver docks, waiting for a pack of feral cats to trust me enough to let me document their scruff and scrappiness.

Not much different with people, come to think of it.

Accosting passerby, trying to explain why I found them interesting, somehow, just as they were.

Blinded by the white

In Photoshop Lightroom there is a slide option called recovery. In Tracey terms I’m pretty sure it means ‘use this on your photo if you want to recover any lost information that you blew out in a highlight’. I have fooled with it before and it can be a lifesaver if you are in need of eeking out as much as you can from the part of your image that may have illusively disappeared into The Great Bright White. The results aren’t always as effective as one might hope (depending on how white is white) but it can really help sometimes.

To be honest though, I am a little torn about recovery. I know a number of people that don’t have a lot of tolerance for blown out highlights and therefore might recommend it. But, I’m a little more open to looking at things differently. I think that some of the images I have seen—and shot--with grossly overexposed highlights can work quite nicely, thank you.

I don’t know if I can always explain why I like what I like, but I know it when I see it and when I do, there is no recovery needed. And no apologies either.

Psssst...

Pssst. Did I tell ya? Too afraid to fess up for what it implies for the presumed amazingness of future photos, which is no sure thing.

Santa brought mama a new SLR camera, a Canon Rebel XTi, to finally displace my point-and-shoot, the Kodak Pipsqueak 2000.

It's a revelation, let me tell you. I can take pictures INDOORS! I have a lens that I can open up to 1.8. ONE. POINT. EIGHT. And the best part? It FOCUSES. I am pleased. I am thrilled. I am nose to the manual every night, determined to figure out how to get it to do what I hope it can do. Lots to learn, but learning's no trouble when you're lit up.

I know I’m all Story of Stuffed, but do me a favour and grant me one gizmo exemption.

This thing, she is some beaut.

January

It's January. If you are lucky enough to live in California, Texas, or any other perpetually warm location you can stop reading right now. I'm mad at you anyway. But, if you live somewhere where you just hear the word January and shiver, keep reading.

How am I supposed to take any mind-blowingly wonderful photographs when it is dark when I leave for work and dark when I get home? Even when the weekend rolls around it is gray and freezing. And I admit I am a bit of a wuss. I don't like being outside when it is 12 degrees and windy. And snowy. And cold, did I mention cold? Inside, I have about 6 square feet of good, natural light in the living room, which doesn't really afford me much freedom.

So if I want to break out the camera I have to keep my eyes peeled for any possibilities (and/or stop being a baby). Hence the above shot of the oranges. They were begging for a little photo session the minute I put them in that bowl. And I was craving some camera time.

I'm thinking my only other options for January are to brave the cold (not likely), use the flash more (no thanks), or book a couple tickets to the Bahamas. I'm thinking I like that last option.

Don't even get me started on February...

a mother's prerogative

Being a camera wielding mama can mean breaching all sorts of what might be considered normal boundaries. Because my photo pattern is to capture more of life’s everyday occurrences over the big events, I find myself taking pictures of the most mundane, and perhaps even the most private of moments.

Having a tween-aged daughter has reminded me that soon, very soon, the family shots I do decide to share with the world will have to be perhaps a tad more censored than they have been to date. On the other hand, I also have a preschooler under my roof and therefore still have some time to indulge myself in what I call the mother’s prerogative photo free-for-all.

Good times.