A momentary lapse of contemplation

During my recent trip to Los Angeles, I gave myself a treat by visiting The Getty and where I would spend the next nine hours in total bliss, viewing three exhibits. Migration of the Mind, a collection of scientific and mathematical books from the Schoenberg archives. Some of these books and illuminated manuscripts were several hundred years old, including one book from Iran having been written a little over one thousand years ago.

The other exhibit, which was spread out into three galleries, consisted of forty drawings and one notebook from the seventeenth century and depicted Dutch landscapes. However the one I would have traveled great distance for was the Irving Penn collection of more than 250 large photographic Black & White prints from his 1950-51 series Small Trades.

In an earlier post at The Artist Within Us, I paid tribute to Irving Penn who passed away last October. For me he was an important influence in my portraiture work, even though Avedon and Newton also shared a hand. It was Irving’s subtle though dramatic lighting, including the treatment of his subjects that attracted me to his style over other contemporaries such as Avedon’s high-key lighting, or Newton’s elaborate environmental sets.

When I returned back to the place were I was staying, there was a moment in which I held close Irving’s last book Small Trades, then only to sink into a momentary lapse of contemplation and melancholy. When I looked up and saw myself in the mirror, I felt I needed to recreate this moment when I returned to the Bay Area.

Self-Portrait, December 17, 2009

So three to four weeks ago when there was a break in the weather with a clear sky and sunlight was able to enter the room where I have an empty wall for portraiture, I set up the tripod and camera.

It would take several exposures with me walking back and forth, being in front of the camera one moment and then behind, before I had not only the aperture and shutter speed, but also the distance set for proper focus.

Another dozen or so shots until I had everything the way I wanted it to be, including how I would appear in each frame. I also had to make sure that the small hand device that allowed me to photograph myself with out the assistance of another person would not be visible in my hand.

Now you may question the reasoning behind my appearance in choosing not to wear anything but Irving Penn’s book Small Trades, other then possibly revealing my own vulnerability, provided it was a conscious reason for doing so. Yet I will leave it up to the viewer’s imagination for what the reason might have been.

I had tried to emulate not only lighting or the style of Irving Penn, but also the mood that he was able to extract from his subjects. So after several more takes, I would review that series of frames, making mental notes before heading back in front of the camera for the next set of exposures.

After I had edited the seventy plus exposures down to 23 and treating each one within Photoshop, they were assembled into digital filmstrips in order to simulate an old fashion contact sheet, along with its grease making pencil, while also offering you the reader a view of the series and how I came about to make my selection of the one image that represented that very poignant moment in Los Angeles a week earlier.

I had planned on another photo shot for the following weekend, yet events, including the weather have delayed any further self-portraitures and most likely will not happen until after I get my haircut.

In the coming next couple of weeks I will be writing about the Irving Penn exhibit itself, including individual posts on the Schoenberg collection and the Dutch landscape drawings. There are also plans to write about Richard Avedon and Helmut Newton in the coming months since they two had made a difference not only to the craft of photography but also the way I shot my fashion assignments.

Technical Information

Camera:

Nikon D70 w/AF-S Nikkor18-70mm 1.35-45G lens

Exposure:

Image N0155823, December 17, 2009 at 2:31 PM Pacific Time

Camera settings manual at full resolution (3008 x 2000 px)

ISO200; focal length 31.0 mm; F-stop 8; exposure 10/100 second.

Lighting:

Natural day light entering through the doorway with no fill card to bounce any light back unto the subjects matters right side.

All images were treated in Photoshop v.8 (CS-I) using a G4 466 MHz Macintosh running OS-X.4

PS Notes:

Every image received custom Level treatments, by individually adjusting the R-G-B settings.

However the Curves and Channel Mixer, including the Brightness/Contrast sets were based on the final image and then applied to all of the out-takes.

Curve settings:

Global RGB Input/Output: 85/75 and 185/175

Individual Input/Output: Red: 70/60; Green: 70/60; Blue: 70/60

Channel Mixer:

R+65, G:00, B+35, Contrast 0

(For more dramatic skin tones you may wish to try: R+35, G:00, B+65, Contrast 0)

Brightness/Contrast:

-5 / +5

Overcoming an HTML hurdle

To some of you it may seem that I have abandoned my effort by not posting, but nothing could be further from the truth. First off, I wish to express my sincerest gratitude for all the comments that I have received at The Artist Within Us and here at Four Seasons in a Life. It is also important to me to acknowledge the many new individuals who have added either of my blogs. I thank you kindly for having done so.

For several months it has been my wish to return the compliment to everyone who is a follower and something I have not done because there was a plan to create a more user-friendly system for all the resources and blog roll links I knew there would be over the following years. First I needed to figure out how to create a three-widget-column blog that is also is an extension of Four Seasons in a Life, while maintaining my current blog though it needed to be transferred.

This major hurdle was finally overcome last night and I managed to transfer the entire blog roll, but there is still more to be accomplished over the next several weeks. The plan is to also move all the resource links from both of my blogs to the Directory, including adding the remainder of those whose compliment of following me I have not returned.

A major criteria was also to separate and categorize the blog links so that a visitor could quickly locate their particular interest and as you have a look at the Directory, let me know if you feel I should relocate your blog’s link.

With the creation of the Directory as a separate blog now behind me, I fell that I can begin to focus on the stories in development for future posts.

Taking nothing for granted

Most of the leaves have now parted from their security, having had their last dance with the breeze before touching the ground, where they joined others in the making of nature’s blanket that protects the earth from the night’s frost. As the sun’s pale golden yellow rises over the hills edge, mornings dew looses its grip, slowly surrendering to the spell of the warm light. So to the year approaches its last breathe, bringing not only a year to a close, but a decade of turmoil and uncertainties, which hopefully will also come to an end.

As I reflect upon the last ten years and my own challenges and demons, there is one bright spot. It started to blog seven months ago with the establishment of my first blog The Artist Within Us and this was shortly followed a month later with Four Seasons in a Life. It not only offered a new activity, it kept me from focusing upon my own situation and the stalemate that has lasted now six years.

In these past few months in which I have been blogging, a number of friendships have begun to blossom, exchanging private correspondence and more. Then there are the many wonderful readers who have acknowledged me with their favor by becoming a follower, all of which I greatly cherish, taking nothing for granted, including the comments they have left behind.

Shortly we embark upon another year and a new decade, one that lies before us like a blank page awaiting our mark. Where our journey will lead us over the next few months is anyone’s guess, I just know that we will each continue to share our separate paths, with one another, enriching each others life, one day at a time.

May your life be a blessing each day

as the sun graces your presence.

Egmont

Caterina’s keys

In the spring of 2008 while working on a sculpture based my open-heart surgery that took place January of 2006, an idea took hold and since then has taken root. Never the less several more months would need to pass before I started searching for the various elements. Though a few elements are still missing, I have the foundation along with a couple of other essential objects in this assemblage. The base is an old wooden desk drawer that since has had a layer of golden foil added to it, changing the meaning from a utilitarian object to a personal shrine.

Spring 2008 at Diablo Valley College art department

The concept, like a pot of tea which has been slowly brewing, taking on colour, releasing its essence and filling the room with fragrance, so to has the mind contemplated the various aspects as to the artworks technical issues and final appearance. While time can become ones worst antagonist by altering the original course upon which one had set out on, the idea is too deeply entrenched for this to occur. This does not mean there is no room for allowing plenty of alternative paths to branch off into, without being unfaithful to the concept.

Another traveled one of these meandering paths after a story was shared and a comment exchanged, who then with great care and love placed two keys into an envelope, sending it by the hands of many unknown strangers participating in the mission, so that upon my trip home from southern California I would find waiting on the kitchen table a small package.

The packet had also two old fashioned keys drawn on it, along with the words “Art is Key” and “Art saves lives.” I carefully cut open the left side and gentle retrieved its content. With great anticipation and equal excitement I unfolded the antique gold tissue paper until the keys emerged from its safe keeping. Each key with its distinctive appearance and individual customized tag, offered a unique interpretation in the assemblages meaning. For now that decision would have to wait.

Yet after reading her enclosed note, I could not help but begin to ponder what Catering’s influence on the artwork, its impact or for that matter, its outcome would be. There would certainly be a shift in the artwork’s meaning, despite remaining truthful to the original concept and John Fowles' 1963 book, “The Collector.”

Caterina’s gift to me represents the very symbol of unlocking the personal mythology that a key represents and in the end it needed to come from another or it’s meaning could not be true to the idea of the artwork. Though the assemblage is far from complete, the artwork still remains in the gathering stage, but with either one of these keys, it has made a significant progress. For this I remain deeply indebted to Caterina and for helping me upon my journey.

Postscript: For those of you, who do not know Caterina Giglio’s blog La Dolce Vita, please have a look, as she combines various techniques in her multi-medium art.

For a review of Fowles’ first book "The Collector". He is also the author of "The French Lieutenant’s Woman."

The reason for my absence

Two weeks ago I received a phone call from a friend I have know for the last twenty-eight years, asking if I could help and this would require traveling to southern California. Before our conversation concluded I knew what my answer would be, but I would need to first discuss this with the family. The following day I learned a little more for my purpose and we each reassured one another. I started packing clothing for a week, pulling a couple of books to read in the evening, along with my notebooks.

As the days progressed and we were reaching the end of last week, it became clear it would require staying a little longer then first agreed, but just passed midnight and the start of Thursday, I arrived home.

I have no regrets, though I never did get to read any of my books, visit LACMA, I did spend nine hours at The Getty, being overwhelmed by more than 250 large prints of the late Irving Penn, along with several other special exhibits. Over the next several weeks I will write about these exhibits and share photographs of the Getty’s architecture, including the pleasures discovered in an envelope sent to me from one of my followers in Colorado.

Having been out of my element and routine, it will take a couple of days to regain my footing so I can catch up on all the posts I have missed, considering I had mostly no Internet, let alone the evening news from New York to know what was going on else where.

Before closing I would like to welcome my latest followers, Caterina Giglio, La Dolce Vita; Kim Hambric, Merlin’s Musings; Anna Mavromatis, My Ephemera; Ange, Words on Wood; Victoria Pittman, by the same name; and our mystery person, a Londoner ex-patriot 'forever' living in Western U.S, Hot Toast and Jam.

Please have a look at the sidebar under Special Exhibits of the month, where you will find a link to the Getty and the Irving Penn exhibit and a little further down my recommendation for the blog of the month, artist Deb Schmit’s and her exceptional paintings.

The weekend after

This morning started with ease, first reading a wonderful letter from Angela in Toulouse, France sharing her Saturday morning activities and filling me in on her calligraphy group that I had asked about. With the weather outside sunny along with a chilling breeze, I remained in bed, contemplating today’s entrée, while a reply to Angela needs to wait just a little longer.

The day after thanksgiving was spent emptying the dishwasher, washing the remainder of the dishes, finding room in the refrigerator for all the leftovers, putting the dinning room back to the way it was prior to the festivities, and then a trip into the garden to collect the many piles of leaves that have fallen in the last two days. There were also the remains of a twelve-foot tree, which needed further cutting up. The smaller pieces liked twigs and small branches were recycled with the rest saved to the woodpile for use in the fireplace on cold nights.

During my time spent outside, the weather was like an unpredictable card game, with dashes of grey clouds sprinkling a fine rain now and then. Before the heavens opened up again and reveal a warm sun against a blue sky, it would disappear only to reappear twenty or so minutes later. When the work had finished and front door closed, I sat at the kitchen table looking out the window at the bird feeders hanging from our cherry tree. I watched the bird’s social interaction with each other, when our returning scrub jay made a racket and chased the other ones away.

While picking at the feeder he continued to sound off a warning that was only broken up by a sudden loud rolling thunder. Within two minutes, a torrential downpour began drenching and flooding our neighborhood. It lasted several minutes before passing on, returning our area to a peaceful calm in the remaining ten or so minutes of dusk before the sky was cloaked in darkness.

Now the sounds of crows are heard as fresh morning air enters through the open sliding door, awakening the spirit and I embrace a new day. I reach for my small buff coloured Moleskine notebook that is the size of a 3 by 5 inch index card, the one I carry with me at all times. I flip through its pages of scribbled down thoughts, potential ideas for a post or a few lines of a possible poem that rests between a to-do list or two, until I come to my pages of lists.

Only two posts ago I was languishing adrift without direction on various levels since my post ‘General Update’, which now feels like a distant memory. It helps to write things down, working out obstacles or the lack of direction and along with a little patience, ones own writings offer possibilities. My list of potential topics emerges over the days and begins to define the blogs goals and eventually its purpose.

There are still other things requiring my attention, such as selecting a noteworthy blog to recommend for the month of December, along with a museum exhibit by Sunday. Then there is the phone call that I received last night, asking for my help with a family matter in Southern California that would require my driving down in a couple of days. It seems that when one thing is completed, another challenge emerges, for now I will enjoy an early afternoon winters day visiting with neighbors and in the evening site down and answer a few emails before retiring for the evening.

A Thanksgiving Day remembered

Over the years I have accumulated my share of enough memorable memories of Thanksgiving Day feast, but there are always a few that remain dear even for all the wrong reasons. The earliest I remember goes as far back as 1957 and I happened to be eight years of age.

The table was nicely set with a tablecloth and I recall there was a candleholder with four white slender candles that bathed the room in deep warm amber tones. There was a small ceiling lamp that filled in the darker empty areas and the only reason I remember this particular Thanksgiving Day was that I could not stop talking.

I was certainly a chatterbox that evening and even after repeated warnings to button it up, I just would not listen. When all of a sudden out of nowhere, my mother’s hand struck my left cheek, but her astonishment and mine, my father’s hand had struck my right cheek at the same time I felt the burning sting on the other side of my face.

There was a momentary silence as my parents looked at each other in a bewildered surprise, while I turned my head from one side to the other looking at each of them with my own shocked expression before all three of us busted out laughing.

Now I cannot recall if I did finally keep quiet and paid attention to dinner or continued talking, I can say that it was that the following month my father won in a raffle a huge unabridged Webster’s Dictionary, which was presented to me on Christmas Day.

Thank you for stopping by and I hope you are

surrounded with the sounds of laughter

and the fragrances of good food set

among family and friends on this

Thanksgiving Day.

Egmont