I took this picture while camping with Kevin last month. It was a peaceful Tuesday morning, and the sun came through the trees just right. This is from our own campsite, so what you see there is my neighbors for the three days we were camping.Posting this picture today comes from a conversation with my best friend, where he and I were discussing art. His favorite artist is Edward Hopper because he likes the stillness of the paintings. I don't really have a favorite artist, probably because I don't know much about art or photography.
We were sitting there, discussing the work of Edward Hopper. He immediately begins to think of stories of the characters or the places. These paintings speak to him of a quiteness, or a loss (my favorite being "NY Movie"..that one speaks to me a story), but what I noticed first wasn't the story in the picture, but the composition. I noticed the colors, and how they blended, and how, especially in "NY Movie", there is a barrier between the focal point of a young usherette, and the rest of the movie goers. I notice the primary colors around her, and in her uniform. I notice the color tension and flow, but the first thing I see isn't the story. As a writer, shouldn't that be what I see?
As a writer, I feel I should automatically look at these pictures and wonder what these people are thinking, or what could have gone on here. Just as I am walking around a field, I should be able to see the Native American encampments that were there 200 years ago. I don't though. I see the waving of the tall grasses, and how the grasses begin to brown, feathering on top of the shaft. I notice how they bend in the wind, creating a brilliant ripple effect which reminisces of the ocean, and I rejoice in the ocean of the field.
I do not have any "artistic" talent, as far as drawing or painting goes. I took a class once, produced two paintings, and never really painted again, except for paint by number. Photography or cinematography may be my strong suit (as I may point out in the picture above, my favorite from the camping trip... so far.. I have to fiddle with some of the others). I took Photography in high school. I used to know how to create black and white photos with an old 35mm camera and process the film and develop the paintings.
I have been a poet and a fiction writer for as long as I can remember. I have been telling stories, albeit simplistic, since I was four, and my grandmother transcribed my very first story (about a black unicorn living in a white unicorn world). I write poetry quickly, but I don't think I'm superb at it, and most of mine could use some polish.
Photography speaks to me as a beautiful art, because the composition is there.
So, which art do I choose? I still don't know. I'll keep plugging away at my novels, dashing off my poetry... and admiring nature and life in my photography.
