Time to Move Forward
It’s a good day to write and reflect. This year started a little strange for us. My father-in-law, Mark’s stepfather, passed away after a short-lived battle with liver cancer on Christmas Eve. We were all expecting to spend Christmas Day together, and he was looking forward to seeing our son, who flew home for Christmas, and our daughter, whom he had just seen a month earlier at Thanksgiving. Our family sort of floated through the holiday season in a weird state with all that happened, and we’re all still processing it.
Just a week before Christmas, I broke my foot; not even a story-worthy cause! Nonetheless, I am in an AirCast boot and pretty limited on how much I can walk until the end of January. Between the recent injury and Larry’s illness for several months prior, I haven’t been out shooting for a while. And the less time I am behind the lens, the more I feel disconnected from my art. I haven’t done any sketching, journaling, or much of anything art-minded lately.
Steamboat Snow Fence, Big Horn Mountains, November 2023
I recently sat down at the computer and went through the hundreds of photos I took in 2023. I came up with about 50 that I liked out of all those. Of that 50, I’ll probably only add a portion to my permanent catalog. I look at this collection of chosen and see some growth; using new techniques and the new gear I’ve been able to purchase after the Great Water Disaster (a story for another day). I see some recurring themes; abandoned houses with stormy skies, and gnarly old trees in wildflower fields. They’re familiar-themed but different from what I’ve taken before. I also see a new area that I want to explore more this year. Black and whites - old school film as well as digital black and white. We’re so immersed in a real and digital world of color, that I have forgotten how beautiful the simplicity of black and white photos are.
Compositionally, shooting in black and white is different than color. Contrast and shadow are vital. Some of my nature subjects like flowers and pretty fall grasses look like a washed-out field of gray in black and white. I am interested in going back to my roots, back to the basics of black and white, and rediscovering the beauty of composition, shape, line, and contrast. Steamboat Snow Fence is an image I very much like. I will have it available online soon.
My father-in-law, Larry, was a brilliant man in his prime. He held a doctorate in wildlife biology, was an accomplished scientist, college professor, business entrepreneur, and, as anyone who knew him will tell you, wine connoisseur. He was generous with me in many ways, and I came to have a special bond with him over several years when I helped him produce his two books. We worked well together, and I take pride in my part in helping him create the two volumes of stories that are now his life’s anthology. He was also an amateur photographer and an art lover and encouraged me to pursue my passion. I gave him several prints over the years, but his favorite was “Winter Lean,” shown above. That photo holds a special place for me now, knowing how much he enjoyed it.
2024 has started a little rough, but I think good things are ahead. I will find my mojo again. I think about Larry’s legacy and that turns into thinking about what I want my art legacy to be. This last Christmas, I had three friends and clients who custom-ordered specific photos for their loved ones. All three gift recipients were very happy, “thrilled” as I was told, with their gifts. They were photos that meant something to the recipients, evoked an emotional response, and made them feel happy or reminded them of a special person in their lives. I can’t think of a better art legacy than that.
Goodbye 2023, and all the difficulties as well as good memories. Time to move forward!