June 20, 2007

Kaiya

Title: Kaiya
Type: Digital
Date: June 15, 2007
Time: Early evening
Camera: Canon Rebel xti 10 mp
Where: New Bern, NC
Programs: Photoshop

I'm seriously considering changing careers and starting my own kid portraiture business.

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Film and Developer Archives

June 13, 2007

Bridges

Bridges
Coastal North Carolina
Date: Early 2007
Camera: Canon Rebel xti 10mp digital

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Film and Developer Archives

June 6, 2007

Film and Developer

Title: Wildflowers
Type: Digital
Date: May 30, 2007
Time: 7:30 pm
Camera: Canon Rebel xti 10 mp
Where: New Bern, NC
Programs: Photoshop

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Shawna is lying in a field, watching the clouds roll by

Archives

May 2, 2007

Joshua Tree

We left Encinitas around 8 pm on a Friday night. We attempted to get on the road earlier but it just didn’t happen. Considering traffic, it most likely wouldn’t have mattered had we left any earlier that afternoon. We made the trip in my black Mazda 323 hatchback extraordinaire. And we were on a mission: photograph the absolute best landscape for our assignment.

Kathy and I were taking the same class: Advanced Black and White Photography. When the landscape assignment came up, we decided we had to get out of the city and find something cool. North San Diego County didn’t have much open land as development was never ending and the only open space to be found was at the beach or Camp Pendleton. And who wanted to see another beach shot? Not us. How boring.

We decided to go to Joshua Tree. North on the 5, to 78 East, north again on 15, then hit the 10 and go right. Three hours later, we followed the signs to one of the park’s entrances. Joshua Tree is in the middle of the high dessert and there’s not much there but weird trees and big rocks. At least that’s how it looked 18 years ago. Who knows how close the golf course grass grows to the edge of the park now.

It was dark. Very, very dark. Not a light in sight. No moon that night. We decided to take a look around. We drove. As we came upon the Joshua trees, the car’s headlights were shining into those strange looking trees and the light gave the trees an eerie lifelike quality. We were mesmerized. It was one of the most awesome sights either one of us had ever seen.

We wanted to be awake before sunrise and decided it was time to stop for the night. We found a small parking lot that clearly stated “no overnight parking” and slept in the car. Just before sunrise, we were startled awake by a park ranger who promptly ticketed us for parking in an area that clearly stated “no overnight parking”. We thanked the ranger for waking us before the sun came up and decided it was time to find our landscapes and start pushing our shutter buttons.

We drove through the desert, through the Joshua trees, down the highway with the car’s headlights beaming through these oddly shaped trees that looked very surreal. We found our spot, pulled off to the side of the road and waited for the sun to come up as we fixed our tripods and loaded our film. At some point, as the sun was rising, I ran back to the car, opened all of the windows, threw U2’s Joshua Tree in the tape deck, turned the volume up full blast and spent the next hour photographing Joshua trees in Joshua Tree State Park listening to U2’s Joshua Tree album. I’m not sure how they did it, but U2 captured the feeling of a Joshua Tree with that album. Or maybe I captured the feeling of U2 in Joshua Tree…. Whatever it was, it was powerful.

Later that afternoon, we found a camp ground in which to legally pitch our tent and stay the night. We happened upon some other campers who generously shared their beer with us. We spent the next few hours sitting at the picnic table at our camp with a couple of guys we didn’t know, drinking beer and smoking cigarettes. It was dark except for our campfire. I have no recollection of what we ate the whole time we were in the desert except for the diner we stopped in on our way out of Joshua Tree. Funny the things we remember, or choose not to. I do remember that we had a hell of time pitching that tent, though.

The next morning, we explored more of the park and came upon the phallic rock formations. Of course, we had to stop and photograph them. We laughed our asses off at those rocks. The rock climbers there that day looked at us like we were idiots.

So, I have two photographs today; a tree and a couple of rocks.

The tree shot is a classic Joshua tree. I shot this photo as the sun was rising and the shadows that were cast are kinda cool. Now, go find your U2 cd and play Where the Streets Have No Name really loud while staring at this picture… Can you feel it? No? Well, maybe you had to be there.

Next up we have what I call Penis Rock. Do you see the phallic resemblance? Surely you do. Other than the resemblance to the male anatomy, which still makes me laugh, I like the details and the light and shadow in this image.

That’s it for today, kids. Next week, tune in for more portraits. Right now, I gotta go listen to Running To Stand Still.

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penisrock.jpg

Shawna may or may not have found what she's looking for.

Archives

April 25, 2007

The Wedding Party

Years ago, one of my friend's sisters got married. A young couple, cheap parents and low budget wedding ceremony and reception were on the horizon. At this time, I was fully immersed in photography, taking college classes and filling just about every waking moment that I wasn't at work either taking pictures, developing pictures or in class.

Guess whom the poor, young couple asked to take pictures of there wedding? Yep, you guessed it: me. It was one of the most nerve-racking experiences of my life. What if my camera malfunctions? What if the flash doesn't work? Can I reload film fast enough? What if I'm not paying attention when the roll is almost to the end and I miss one of the most important moments?

It was not an experience that I ever wanted to repeat and swore I'd never agree to photograph someone's wedding. Everyone is an art director and I had plenty that day. Too many. It was awful. Never again would I subject myself to such torture.

Fast-forward 20 years. My niece, Danielle, announces her engagement. You've seen Danielle in my previous articles, the one about Robin and her ghost. Robin's cousin in one of those shots is Danielle. Of course, Danielle remembers that I can take a fairly decent picture and guess what? Here I am agreeing to photograph her wedding! I agree, reluctantly.

This time, though, I have the Canon Rebel xti 10 megapixel digital SLR!

The experience was nerve-racking due to the fact that you are responsible for capturing images of the most important day of two peoples lives to date. I insisted on going to the rehearsal, because truth be told, I had no flipping idea how to photograph a wedding. All in all, it turned out very well. The only thing I'll do differently next time (Danielle's sisters, all three of them, want me to photograph their weddings next year) is that when I do the group shots, no one else with a camera will be allowed within a mile. I have some great shots of the entire wedding party with all of them looking in different directions. Live and learn.

Here are some shots from the wedding of the happy couple, Matt and Danielle! My favorite, of course, is the one I snapped right after the ceremony was over and they walked away from the guests and out of site, and immediately lit a cigarette.


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Archives

April 18, 2007

Snakes

Our house and property back up to wetlands. This means lots of trees, brush, wild ferns, vines of all sorts and a swamp. This also means we have a variety of critters that live in our back yard. So far, we've seen rabbits, squirrels, all variety of birds (my son Riley can name most of them), frogs, toads, mosquitoes (bastards), and our favorite visitor last summer, a snake. I described the snake to the neighbor man who mowed our lawn before we bought our own lawn mower and asked him if this was a good snake or a bad snake. He laughed and said, "The only good snake is a dead snake" and suggested that we go buy a bush ax. I think I'll take his advice. Snakes are the evil spawn of the devil, right after Bill Gates. Riley says the snake in our yard was all black with a triangle shaped head. A triangle-shaped head on a snake is not a good thing. Hmmm. I never did get that bush ax. Maybe this summer I should seriously consider the bush ax investment, especially after the “alligators in the wetlands in the backyard” dream I had a few weeks ago.

Shortly after we had our first encounter with the snake, I saw Jesse, our neighbor across the street, running around our yard with a shovel. Jake, Riley and I promptly investigated (Daddy and Kaiya were taking a nap). Seems that Jesse saw something in our front yard being attacked by three birds and supposed the only thing it could be was a snake. The four of us searched the yard, looking everywhere for Mr. Snake but couldn't locate him. Jesse then engaged in conversation with our neighbor, Lyle, while the kids and I went back inside. A few minutes later, Jake yelled, "Snake! There it is!" And there it was, right outside our front door. I ran outside, using the side door as my exit, to tell Jesse we found the snake. He launched that shovel in the air, let it fall and with one good whack Mr. Snake lost his head. Well, almost lost his head. Mr. Snake's head was approximately 3/4 severed. Turns out Mr. Snake was a harmless black snake and didn’t have the triangle-shaped head that we feared.. But, like Jim said, the only good snake is a dead snake! And so ended our snake adventures.

After our exciting snake escapade, I promptly forgot about Mr. Snake. Or so I thought. Apparently, Mr. Snake had worked his way into my sub-conscience and left his mark. A few days after the snake adventure, I had the most bazaar dream. About a month prior to our snake fun, the boys and I went to Lowe’s Home Improvement and bought a couple of tomato bushes. We brought them home and planted them in the back yard. They'd been growing there, in the back yard, ever since....

Except on the night of my dream the tomato bushes had moved. They were now in the front yard. In my dream, I was walking around the yard when I happened upon my tomato plants, which used to be in the back yard but were now in the front yard. Upon closer examination, I noticed that one of them didn't appear very healthy. I reached down, tugged a little on the small stock and the whole thing came up out of the ground without much effort. My first thought was that Mr. Rabbit, which I happened to see in the back yard a day earlier, had tunneled his way to my tomato bush and had eaten it's roots. I pushed gently around the area where the tomato bush had been growing and a tunnel in the ground opened up before my eyes; as I watched, the hole got bigger and bigger. Suddenly, I was looking down into a snake pit that extended the length and width of our entire property. As I was examining this unbelievable pit, a rock had dropped down into it and a few of the snakes looked up at me and hissed....

This is where the dream ended. Thank God. But how strange is our sub-conscience? I will admit that I don't like snakes any better than the next girl, but I certainly didn't dwell on Mr. Snake. He was fun to talk about and made for an interesting story, but that's where the interest stopped...or so I thought until I had that dream.

This story has very little to do with my pictures featured here today, other than the fact that I love the outdoors and sometimes you find really cool stuff like trees that look naked, or sometimes you find snakes. I shot this tree last Friday when I was at a co-worker’s house doing a photo shoot for an ad. While I waiting for my art director to set up the shot, I discovered this really neat tree. It looked naked. So I took a few shots.

Thank God there were no snakes in the tree.

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Shawna does not want any motherfucking snakes in her motherfucking tree.

Archives

April 11, 2007

The Joshua Tree

We left Encinitas around 8 pm on a Friday night. We attempted to get on the road earlier but it just didn’t happen. Considering traffic, it most likely wouldn’t have mattered had we left any earlier that afternoon. We made the trip in my black Mazda 323 hatchback extraordinaire. And we were on a mission: photograph the absolute best landscape for our assignment.

Kathy and I were taking the same class: Advanced Black and White Photography. When the landscape assignment came up, we decided we had to get out of the city and find something cool. North San Diego County didn’t have much open land as development was never ending and the only open space to be found was at the beach or Camp Pendleton. And who wanted to see another beach shot? Not us. How boring.

We decided to go to Joshua Tree. North on the 5, to 78 East, north again on 15, then hit the 10 and go right. Three hours later, we followed the signs to one of the park’s entrances. Joshua Tree is in the middle of the high dessert and there’s not much there but weird trees and big rocks. At least that’s how it looked 18 years ago. Who knows how close the golf course grass grows to the edge of the park now.

It was dark. Very, very dark. Not a light in sight. No moon that night. We decided to take a look around. We drove. As we came upon the Joshua trees, the car’s headlights were shining into those strange looking trees and the light gave the trees an eerie lifelike quality. We were mesmerized. It was one of the most awesome sights either one of us had ever seen.

We wanted to be awake before sunrise and decided it was time to stop for the night. We found a small parking lot that clearly stated “no overnight parking” and slept in the car. Just before sunrise, we were startled awake by a park ranger who promptly ticketed us for parking in an area that clearly stated “no overnight parking”. We thanked the ranger for waking us before the sun came up and decided it was time to find our landscapes and start pushing our shutter buttons.

We drove through the desert, through the Joshua trees, down the highway with the car’s headlights beaming through these oddly shaped trees that looked very surreal. We found our spot, pulled off to the side of the road and waited for the sun to come up as we fixed our tripods and loaded our film. At some point, as the sun was rising, I ran back to the car, opened all of the windows, threw U2’s Joshua Tree in the tape deck, turned the volume up full blast and spent the next hour photographing Joshua trees in Joshua Tree State Park listening to U2’s Joshua Tree album. I’m not sure how they did it, but U2 captured the feeling of a Joshua Tree with that album. Or maybe I captured the feeling of U2 in Joshua Tree…. Whatever it was, it was powerful.

Later that afternoon, we found a camp ground in which to legally pitch our tent and stay the night. We happened upon some other campers who generously shared their beer with us. We spent the next few hours sitting at the picnic table at our camp with a couple of guys we didn’t know, drinking beer and smoking cigarettes. It was dark except for our campfire. I have no recollection of what we ate the whole time we were in the desert except for the diner we stopped in on our way out of Joshua Tree. Funny the things we remember, or choose not to. I do remember that we had a hell of time pitching that tent, though.

The next morning, we explored more of the park and came upon the phallic rock formations. Of course, we had to stop and photograph them. We laughed our asses off at those rocks. The rock climbers there that day looked at us like we were idiots.

So, I have two photographs today; a tree and a couple of rocks.

The tree shot is a classic Joshua tree. I shot this photo as the sun was rising and the shadows that were cast are kinda cool. Now, go find your U2 cd and play Where the Streets Have No Name really loud while staring at this picture… Can you feel it? No? Well, maybe you had to be there.

Next up we have what I call Penis Rock. Do you see the phallic resemblance? Surely you do. Other than the resemblance to the male anatomy, which still makes me laugh, I like the details and the light and shadow in this image.

That’s it for today, kids. Next week, tune in for more portraits. Right now, I gotta go listen to Running To Stand Still.

joshuatree.jpg


penisrock.jpg


Shawna may or may not have found what she's looking for.

Film and Developer Archives

April 4, 2007

Boy vs Backyard

Jake is eleven years old and has more persistence than most people I know. And I don’t mean persistence in the way that a kid will bug his mother to death for something that will kill him if he doesn’t have. I’m referring to the type of persistence that drives one to complete a task that’s been started, no matter what, at any cost.

Like, for example, trying to start a fire with sticks.

Jake has been watching Man vs Wild on the Discovery Channel. He loves Bear Grylls, the man behind the show. He watches intently, soaking up all the nature lessons like a dry sponge.

Like, for example, learning how to start a fire with sticks.

On several occasions over the past few weeks, I have happened upon Jake in our backyard, on the patio, or in the driveway, with sticks and dry grass, persistently trying to make fire. His first attempt was a solid 30 minutes. No fire. He’s made several other attempts, including last night when he asked me if we had a larger magnifying glass because, obviously, the sticks just weren’t working, nor was the small magnifying glass he found in the kitchen.

I don’t think he’s a pyromaniac. At least I hope not. One thing that I do know for sure is that he is still trying to make fire with his bare hands. What he has accomplished: a tree house, which he “designed” on his own (and will be a work in progress all summer, I’m sure); he’s made a bow and arrows from wood he’s cut from trees in the back yard (and he learned that bamboo is not good material for a bow); he wants a new Swiss army knife, one with a sharper blade so he can cut stuff easier. He’s a busy boy.

Here’s Jake trying to start his fire. I’ll let you know if he’s ever successful. Hopefully, he won’t burn down the tree house.

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Shawna will be receiving an mp3 of Talking Head's "Burning Down the House" - just in case.

Archives

March 28, 2007

Robin and the Ghost

Shawna is away this week. We are taking the opportunity to showcase one of her earlier articles for us, which ran back in October and some of you might not have seen.

Robin was an interesting little girl, often saying things beyond her years. I overheard her ask her mother to tell her brother to stop bothering her because, as she put it, “He’s antagonizing me”. She was six years old when she used that big word. I don’t know where she learned it or how she knew what it meant, but I found it funny as hell that she knew how to use it in a sentence. She was, and still is, too smart for her own good.

A few years later Robin decided she didn’t want to live at home anymore and told her teacher that he father beat her. I’m fairly certain it wasn’t more than 24 hours later when Child Protective Services (CPS) walked into my brother’s house and removed all three kids. This was a devastating event in our family and left scars on some of us that will never heal. The charges were unsubstantiated but in the state of California, in cases of child abuse, one is guilty until proven innocent. All three kids were in foster homes for months to come.

The state finally decided that the boys could go back home but Robin was being transferred to the psychiatric ward of San Diego’s Children’s Hospital. She spent the next several months at the hospital. Since I was living in downtown San Diego at the time, I visited her a few times. The visits were surreal – Robin had a misunderstood intelligence about her and talking to her was like talking to an adult. She was probably eight at the time. My brother and his family had decided to move to the east coast and live with our parents until they could get back on their feet. They didn’t want to leave their daughter in San Diego, but financially, they had no choice.

My father had been worried about the kids for months. He was especially concerned for Robin and called her at the hospital at least once a week. He spent a lot of time on the phone with her, just talking. He just wanted to know she was OK.

My father died before Robin was released from the hospital and allowed to rejoin her family on the east coast. The doctors at the hospital didn’t want her to become upset so they asked her parents “not to mention” the death of her grandfather. They were afraid she wouldn’t take it so well and flip out. Fucking doctors.

Fast forward several weeks later. Robin is talking to her dad on the telephone. She’s quiet and distracted and her dad asks her what’s the matter.

Robin: “Daddy, how’s Grandpa? He hasn’t called me.”

Robin’s Dad: “Fine. He’s fine.”

Robin: “Are you sure?’ Cuz I saw him in my room yesterday.”

Robin saw my father in her room at the hospital after he had died. He was checking up on her, making sure she was OK. My father had also visited Robin’s two brothers a few months after his death. But I suppose that’s a story for another day, though.

This is Robin. I’m not sure what I did here because I simply don’t remember, but I’m thinking I borrowed a camera lens from school and that’s how I achieved the distorted view in this picture. The shot of Robin by herself is a much better exposure than the one of her with her cousin; however, I love the composition in the shot of the two kids together.

The shot of Robin by herself stands out because of the eyes. First rule of portraiture, focus on the eyes. When viewing a portrait, the first thing we tend to look at is the face; therefore, it’s imperative that the eyes are in focus.

Both of these pictures could be better. The highlights are a bit too bright and some of the detail in the girls’ faces is lost. Someday, after I invest in the equipment and set up the darkroom in my garage, I’ll print these pictures again. For now, though, I still think they’re cool shots.

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Archives

March 21, 2007

Criminal Report

Subject Name: Mom’s Keys
Social Security Number: 123-12-1234
Date of Birth: Unknown

Jurisdiction / Location: New Bern, NC
Search Type: Missing
Yrs Searched - Higher Court: 03/19/2007 am - 03/19/2007 am
Yrs Searched - Lower Court: 03/19/2007 pm - 03/19/2007 pm

Result: Still Missing

Special Notes (if any): Suspect – one of three possible. Keys missing. Main suspect: 2 year-old Kaiya. No plea bargain accepted. Threats not effective. Will try same plea bargain with bothers of suspect.

*************************************************

Jurisdiction: Craven County, NC

Report Type: Irritating
Years Searched - Higher Court: 03/19/2007 am - 03/19/2007 am
Years Searched - Lower Court: 03/19/2007 pm - 03/19/2007 pm
Name Requested: Keys, Mom

Date Of Birth Requested: Unknown
SSN Requested: 123-12-1234
AKA1 Requested: Mother’s keys
AKA2 Requested: Keys to Mom’s vehicle, home, place of employment
Address Requested: Where are my damn keys?
Other ID Requested: None, I know what they look like.

Name Found: None
DOB Found: None
SSN Found: None
AKA1 Found: None
AKA2 Found: None

Address Found: None
Other ID Found: None

Case Number: 1needmykeeznow
Charge: not specified – YET! Just wait…

Offense Date: 3/19/07
Arrest Date: N/A
File Date: 3/19/07
Disposition Date: 3/21/07
Other Case Info: The girl knows where they are. She’s not talking. Further action needed. Boys pretending that they know nothing. Further action needed. Threats may be pending. Don't let the smiles and beautiful eyes fool you. They're heathens.
ID Discrepancies: None. I know who they are!!!!


End.

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Archives

March 14, 2007

The Forest For The Trees

Anyone who knows me or has read my past columns knows that I can take a picture of person fairly well.

But the landscapes - I hate the landscapes. Especially of trees. I hate trees in pictures.

So, today I'm switching it up a bit. Instead of me telling you the story behind this picture, I want you to tell me how it makes you feel.

Be open, be honest, be anonymous if it makes you feel better.

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Archives

March 7, 2007

Sex

Last week, I knew without a doubt in my mind the pictures that I would write about and feature this week.

Six o’clock in the morning on Thursday last week, my sister, my niece, my great nephew and I all piled into my little Mazda and started our road trip. Twelve hours (and a bad storm in Georgia) later, we were in Florida. I’d not been to Florida before and was looking forward to stepping foot in yet another state. Before I die, I’d like to say that I’ve visited all 50 states. So far, I’ve been to California, Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, Arkansas, Colorado, Oklahoma, Tennessee, South Carolina, North Carolina, Washington, Oregon, Alaska, Kansas, Maryland, Virginia, Pennsylvania, Alabama, Ohio, Utah, Nevada, Georgia, Florida… I think that’s it.

How many is that? How many do I have to go?? I really need to go north.

Oh, and just let me say that the people in Florida are crazy. Average highway speed is, I am not exaggerating, 90 mph. I was on I-4 traveling from Tampa to Orlando, 11 pm, doing 80 mph and cars were passing me left and right. I felt like an old woman doing 40 on the freeway. By the time I crossed the Florida/Georgia border, I had acclimated to 80 mph. Driving to work this morning was rough. I CAN’T DRIVE 55!

I was in Florida for my niece’s wedding. I was asked to take pictures. Let me say that photographing a wedding is some stressful shit. I’ve done it one other time and swore that I’d never do it again. But here I was, shooting the magical day, breaking the promise I made to myself to never do this again! But, I will say that I did fairly well. Got some awesome shots and I think the happy couple will be pleased.

As for my picture this week, I realized a little late that I couldn’t show the world a wedding picture of the happy couple before they saw it! So, I scrambled at the last minute…

These pictures are from the inside of the building where I work. This wall used to be the outside wall of the building next door. In the 1940’s the building on the right was connected to the building on the left. The original painting on the outside of one of the buildings is now our office wall. I’m not sure when the building was built. Our CFO thinks it may have been late 1800 or early 1900.

Whenever it was, it doesn’t matter cuz I have the coolest office in the world.

Did you think this was about sex? Ha! Tricked you. I win.

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Archives

February 28, 2007

I’ve Been Cheating On You

My husband has been bugging me about moving my “stuff” out of the hall closet for several weeks. The hall closet has turned into a storage closet because, apparently, the garage isn’t big enough. Or clean enough. Oh, and then there are the mice. So, storage in the garage is not an option.

As I was retrieving the few items that I had on the very top shelf of the hall closet, I found my Nikon. I found the “old” camera, the one that uses old-fashioned film. The one that I tossed aside like an old shoe the day I brought home the new digital. I picked it up, brushed the dust off the lens cap and felt a sudden pang of guilt. I’ve been with this camera since my college photography classes a long time ago. I know this camera inside and out. The Nikon is safe, easy and I’m very comfortable using it.

Then, one day when I wasn’t paying attention, technology changed. In the beginning, I stuck with my old friend, claiming the quality of the digital “just isn’t there yet”. For years, I was faithful to my 35mm film box, denying the digital world altogether. But as the quality of the digital camera images increased, I became more and more interested in it, especially after becoming more familiar with computers and graphics programs. My problem, up until I was lucky enough to “win” my Canon 10 mega pixel digital was that I couldn’t afford a really good digital camera; therefore, it was just easier to continue to deny its existence regardless of how good it may be.

Since I got the Canon, I haven’t really thought about the Nikon. Not only have I cheated on the poor Nikon, I have shoved aside our loyalty to one another for the younger, better performing Canon. How could I be so selfish?

So, in honor of my ever trusty Nikon, I give you one of the best pictures of my son that came out of this little metal box (yes, mostly metal moving parts, unlike the Canon to which it compares). T-max 100 film, normal development, variable contrast paper.

This is my son, Riley, who turns 9 years old today. Everyone, say it with me: Happy Birthday, Riley!! His piano teacher informed m on Sunday that Riley has progressed through a year’s worth of piano lessons in six months. He’s a straight A student and just as cute as he can be! I am, however, a bit biased. This was several years ago and he’s sinse grown into those ears a bit more.

I’ve got to go beg forgiveness of the Nikon now and let it know that I haven’t forgotten how it’s been there for me and supported me all of the years. The Nikon will always be my first love.

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Shawna is not going to have make-up sex with the Nikon.

Archives

February 21, 2007

My Own Thing

A few weeks ago I wrote about Anne and Wendy and their brand new little baby girl, showing a picture of Wendy and baby that I took in the hospital they day after the baby was born.

Last week, Anne mentioned to me that Wendy had scheduled an appointment with a major department store to have their family portrait taken.

“Umm. No. Let me take the pictures. I’ll do a much better job,” I said.

So, we scheduled a time for Saturday, this past, and I got some great shots.

Anne, who happens to be the creative director for the ad agency for which I work, sent out an email to the company plugging my services of portraiture. I have three people from work who want me to take their family pictures.

Wendy, who works at a radio station, also emailed me to say that she also has a co-worker who wants me to take her family’s pictures.

And I’ve also been asked to do the photography for a project at work.

For years, I’ve wanted to start my own thing. Maybe it’s time.

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Shawna's website

Column Archives

February 14, 2007

Miss Shawna's Opus

My two boys watched a movie with their dad the other night; they watched Mr. Holland's Opus. I didn't necessarily sit down and watch the movie with them; however, I did find myself watching from the doorway of the back room, not really watching – not exactly. One of these "watching but not really watching" parts was when Mr. Holland helped the girl playing the clarinet realize that she could play if she just felt it in her heart. Or some sappy crap like that. At the time, this particular scene didn't strike me as important; it was just another attempt by some director to move me in an emotional manner. This is partly the reason I hate to watch movies. Most scenes like this cater to the highly hormonal female psyche and just pretty much bore the shit out of me.

The movie did give me the idea for my next photo. Jake, my oldest, is learning Beethoven's Fur Elise for the 5th grade talent show next month. I thought it'd be neat to shoot a series of pictures of his hands while he was playing the song. I asked him to practice the song so I could figure the best way to compose the shots. As he started to play, he told me he didn't need the music because he memorized it. At this point, the first flashback of the movie popped in my head. Didn't Mr. Holland say something about playing not just the notes on the page but rather, to feel the song? So, as Jake is playing this classic song, I stop what I am doing to watch him. He starts to sway back and forth, side to side, his hands do a crossover and he hits the petal at the bottom and doesn't miss a beat. I actually start to cry watching my eleven-year old kid not just play the notes but feel the music. He's feeling it! It was a very powerful moment that I will never forget.

Damn Mr. Holland and his ability to reach my highly hormonal female psyche.

Here are the two shots I like the most from the Jake Playing the Piano shoot. Digital, black and white, and full frame. No cropping allowed.

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Shawna blamed her hormones when she cried during Air Bud.

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February 7, 2007

Beggar's Banquet

If you’re a parent, you know that kids beg for stuff. Some kids beg more than others, some better than others. My husband, Marty, had begging down to a science by the time he was 18 years old. He begged often. And he usually got what he wanted. And usually at the eleventh hour. Wait till the last minute, don’t give the folks too much time to think about it, hit them hard and you’ll get your way.

The first big thing he begged for relentlessly was the clarinet lessons in sixth grade. Unfortunately, Marty didn’t make it through the first book. When the time came for getting his grade and progressing to the second book, Mr. Magnusson, his music teacher, stood in the doorway, shook he head and wouldn’t let him in the room. That was the end of clarinet lessons.

His second big thing was begging to go to sixth grade camp at Camp Cuyamaca for a week, where he was bunked with the other bed wetter, Sean Mahoney. On the application was a box to check if the child was a bed wetter. He father told him he’d have to check the “yes” box and that Marty would just embarrass himself by going to camp. Marty was set on going to camp and the idea of embarrassing himself was not enough of a deterrent to keep him from wanting to attend camp. His father gave in and he went to camp that year. Although the camp counselors would wake Marty and the other better wetting kid, Sean, twice during the night to relieve themselves, in Marty’s case, it was usually too late. And in Sean’s case, it was really too late. As for Marty, this explains why we can’t go anywhere without having to stop to find a bathroom. During that week at camp, story time for the bed wetter turned into a nightmare in itself, when the dens would gather in a different section of the bunkhouse each night for said story time. The night they gathered in Marty’s den, it would be quite obvious what was happening in his bed during the night – the poor kid couldn’t hold his bladder and the smell was evident to those who sat on his particular bed during story time. The kids what ask, “What’s that smell?” and Marty would just shrug and Sean, aka Pigpen, just didn’t care.

His third big thing was the bass guitar. He bought his first bass in early 1979 when he was 18 years old. He visited Guitar Center in downtown San Diego and paid $580 for a Rickenbacker bass guitar, case included. The bass was one of the “biggest” things that he begged for relentlessly to his father when he was young. For a kid, begging is often, but this was different. This was big. On impulse, he paid $100 down on a 30-day lay-a-way, for the best bass in the world, a 4000 series Rickenbacker. Almost on a dare, with his buddies Steve and David standing next to him, Marty put down the required minimum deposit of $100 and made the commitment, despite the fact that he had no way of following through with the commitment of the contract. Now, that’s peer pressure. As Wayne in the movie Wayne’s World, staring at the white Fender Stratocaster behind the clear, protective case, so eloquently put it, “It will be mine, oh yes, it will be mine.” And you see, Marty just had to be Geddy Lee. On the last day of the 30-day contract, when he had the choice of paying the balance or losing his deposit, the bass was back on the wall, as the salesman concluded that the contract would not be fulfilled. Deposit, no return. Thanks to dad and Mastercard, Marty took his bass home and this would mark the first of many close calls of losing the bass forever.

As many musicians surely can relate, this bass has been in and out of pawnshops throughout the years. Too many bands, so many drummers, so few Neil Pearts. “Can’t anybody play a Rush tune?” Marty had dubbed his bass the Rickenhocker due to the countless times that pot was more important than food or music, even when the quality of the weed was dirt. Begging became an art form when the loan payment was a day late and the Rickenbacker was literally in the pawnbroker’s hand. On one particular pawnshop occasion, Mr. Pawnbroker said to security, “Hey, you like my new bass?” After giving Marty the third degree, Mr. Pawnbroker graced him with another day and asked him never to return. Mr. Pawnbroker made it very clear that he and Marty’s business relationship was henceforth severed. Begging is in Marty’s genes and money was in his dad’s jeans. And for a moment in the universe, a pawnbroker grew a heart.

Marty’s days of pawning his instruments are over. The Rickenbacker is safe in the closet, where it lives in its case when not being played.

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Marty has never had to beg Shawna for anything


Archives

January 31, 2007

Day of Portraits

It’s January but it’s not cold like it should be this time of year. The sun set about 5:30 or so this afternoon. Rain fell earlier today and then the sky cleared somewhat. As the sun set, the sky was most beautiful. The light was warm and soft and red.

I attempted to take pictures of the kids in this beautiful, natural glow of the end of the day.

Yeah. Let’s see how far I got.

I started with Kaiya, who insisted on wearing her purple parka even though it was 51 degrees. She’s been a little punky this week since being diagnosed with a double ear infection on Wednesday and then having to endure the invasion of a newborn baby on Friday. (Remember the portrait of Wendy and Jayden from a few weeks ago? Baby Jayden had her first half day with Mr. Marty on Friday. And don’t worry – the ear infection is bacterial and not contagious.)

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It’s apparent that Kaiya will have no part of the picture taking tonight, despite the beautiful light that we have been given. What am I gonna do with this two-year old?

No other choice but to move on to my other two spawn.

The boys, Jake and Riley, are so much more accommodating because they understand that mom has a deadline and has procrastinated yet again and the light is good and the little sister won’t cooperate and they know that if they want dessert tonight they’d better be the little angels that they pretend to be and give mom some good shots.

So I got this.

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Don’t ask me if they have the same father because right after I tell you to fuck off, I’d tell you that they do indeed have the same father.

So, then I decided to do my first ever self-portrait. Yeah, first ever. This picture was totally manipulated in Photoshop. I asked Riley if the picture looks like me. He said 60/40 – 60 me and 40 “something else”. Not “someone else”, yet “something else”.

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I thought about taking a picture of Dad’s goatee, which I found in a pile in the bathroom drawer tonight. All four inches of it. But it looked kind of gross, like a severed limb or something…

And we’re supposed to get snow tonight but no “accumulation”. The boys are pissed.

Shawna has her own, natural glow.


Archives

January 24, 2007

In The Shadows

For the third time since the beginning of December, I have come in contact with some dreadful virus. Scratchy throat, bad cough… it’s getting old. Is global warming to blame for this, too? Or should I just blame Bush like everyone else?

OK, anyway.

My point is, this may be short and I apologize.

I’ve introduced Shawna to you in the past. She first appeared in The Band Pictures in November 2006. At some point during our friendship I made her sit for this shot. It was after 1988 because I remember the place that we shot these photos. My sister and I had rented an apartment in Vista, CA and we lived there while Mom and Dad remodeled Grandpop’s place so it could be sold. A few months later the family abandoned me in California and moved to North Carolina.

The front window of our apartment had this incredibly bright floodlight just outside of the window. The light coming in though that window was intense. The only light source in this shot was that light outside the window and I shot the picture at night. It created some awesome shadows on the walls. Shadows can create wonderful elements in a black and white photo, but I only like them when I have control of them.

Lesson for today: Sometimes shadows work! Use them.

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Shawna belongs to a group of friends where everyone is named Shawna.

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January 17, 2007

Doors, King and Dylan

As you know, I love photography and I love to write stories. What you may not know is that I love to read. I can remember reading books as young as six. No, the books weren’t six, I was. When I seven years old, my father retired from the military after 22 years of service. We were living in Fairbanks, Alaska at the time and Mom and Dad decided that we were all moving to Southern California to be near Grandpop. Alaska to California, can we get anymore extreme? Did you know that it’s a seven-day drive from Fairbanks to San Diego? At least it was in 1973. If I remember correctly, the highway from Alaska to Canada was dirt. Not sure if it still is. And it was November.

When we left Alaska, I was seven years old and in the second grade. I have a very distinct memory of reading a book about a bunch of animals (mice, cats?) and their life in the city. I hadn’t finished this book when we moved and I remember my mother telling me that I can get the book again out of my new school’s library. For some reason, I never did find that book and I’ve always wondered how it ended. Unfortunately, I can’t remember the name of the book. For years I wish I knew so I could finish it.

My point? Books, stories, the written word have always had a big impact on me. I suppose that’s why I love the Internet. Anything in the world that you want to read is at your fingertips. Except, of course, for this book that I was reading in 2nd grade when my family moved and have never been able to find (or remember the name of).

So, to make a long story even longer, one of my favorite authors is Stephen King. The man is brilliant. He is to the novel as is Bob Dylan to lyric and music. BRILLIANT! The way King can write a 1000 page book and tie details together and not miss a step is amazing. AMAZING! No Stephen King novel made into a movie has ever given the written words the justice that they deserve and probably never will. I just don’t think it’s possible to translate one to the other. At least, I haven’t seen it yet.

Years ago, my father bought the first of the Dark Tower series by King and I couldn’t wait for him to finish the book so could read it myself. After the first in the series, he bought the second as soon as it was released, and I think maybe we read this book at the same time, because I could not wait for him to finish. There were many years between the release of books three and four and then again between four and five and I’ve just started to reread the series from the beginning. I’m currently on book four.

The Drawing of the Three was the second in the Dark Tower series. The premise of this book was the main character’s need to take people out of other worlds and pulled them into his world for use in his own quest of the “dark tower”. The Main character, Roland, would happen upon free-standing doors on a beach which led to “other” worlds. Other worlds, other dimensions, others times. Fascinating concept.

Which brings us to doors. I have always wanted to do a photograph of one of “the doors” that King describes in The Drawing of the Three. Twenty years ago, I would have accomplished this in the darkroom with a double exposure on paper. Now, I can do this in Photoshop! I shall work on this over the next couple of months.

For now, I give you this door, or set of doors, as it is. I work in a building that is over 100 years old. These doors are on the left side of the building, first floor, and lead to the alley. I doubt the doors are original, but I’m sure that the brick is. I totally manipulated this image in Photoshop, increasing the brightness and the contrast. A lot. I’m still getting to know my new camera.

The contrast between the harsh red brick and the soft window panels in the door is what I like about this photo. Blue and red. Soft and hard. And not in a sexual sense, you perverts. Wait. I thought that. Nevermind.

Pretty cool, though. The doors. I gotta go shoot the doors on the beach. Soon. And if anyone can tell me then name of the book that I didn’t have the opportunity to finish in the 2nd grade? That’d be cool, too.

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Shawna hopes you didn't think this was going to be about Jim Morrison and Elvis.

Archives

January 10, 2007

Tijuana Street Dog

In 1999, we moved to a rather spacious house in Spring Valley, CA. The house was thousand square feet, two-story and had a nice big back yard with a nice tall fence. It’s the biggest house we’ve lived in to date.

But the yard and the house were missing something. We needed a dog.

My boss, Peggy, knew of a young dog that was in need of a home. The dog had just had a litter of puppies and she was at the San Diego Humane Society waiting for a family to adopt her. Peggy brought the dog to her house so my family and I could meet the dog. Her name was Goldie.

We decided that Goldie was our dog. We took her home the next evening after filling out all of the paperwork and paying the appropriate fees. As soon as we pulled into our driveway, Goldie jumped out of the car and ran into the house. A few minutes later, my husband needed to go out to the car to get her stuff, and I told him he should let the dog go outside with him. He argued with me that it wasn’t a good idea, that she didn’t know us yet and wasn’t familiar with the neighborhood. I talked him into letting Goldie go outside with him, he didn’t need the leash and she’d be fine.

She immediately took off down the street as fast as she could. My husband immediately got into the car and drove down the street, around the corner, out to the main road looking for Goldie. Nothing. We thought we had lost her forever. Marty said she was probably just a rescued street dog, maybe from Mexico and that we’d probably never see again. We shouldn’t have let her outside without her leash; I was wrong.

Hours later, Goldie made her way back to the house. She decided I was the alpha female of the house and since that first day that she took off, she’s never too far from my side. Wherever I go in the house, Goldie is right there – she waits outside the door while I’m in the bathroom, she follows me into the kitchen, follows me outside, and sleeps under the bed. She hasn’t taken off like she did that first night again.

Goldie is a part of the family and only fitting that I take her portrait.

The other day a friend asked how many pictures I had to take to get a good shot, so I thought I’d also include a “proof sheet” which shows all the images I had to take to get an image with which I was happy. That’s the beauty of digital – instant gratification. The last shot I took ended up being the best – in focus, composition and emotion. The picture I chose had the best of all three elements – especially the look on her face, which is such a perfect representation of Goldie.

Next week I may try some color shots. Maybe. I prefer black and white over color, but I am curious what the new camera will do on the color setting.

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Shawna is all about the instant gratification.

Archives

January 3, 2007

Jake – Future Musical Genius

Jake, my oldest kid. Jake is his nickname. We’ve been calling him Jake since the day he was born even though we named him Jacob. In retrospect, I now wonder why we didn’t just name him Jake. All of his friends call him by his given name because of his school records, I suppose. He has a crush on a girl named Blair (but won’t admit it), who attended Jake’s birthday party on Saturday, and she asked me why we call him Jake. I told her that it is his nickname and it’s what we’ve always called him. I heard Blair call him Jake the rest of the day. So cute.

Jake has taken piano lessons every Saturday morning for the past year and a half. He’s learning to read music but he’s getting bored with the piano, I’m afraid. I’m sure he won’t give it up but…

Christmas is three days before Jake’s birthday. On Thursday, he turned eleven. Eleven! My little red head, who’s still got the red hair and the red eye brows and the red eyelashes that he was born with, inherited Dad’s musical talent. Thank God.

Dad gave Jake an electric guitar for Christmas. Dad is teaching Jake where to put his fingers on the neck of the guitar in order to create the same notes that he’s familiar with on the piano.

Here’s Jake playing his new guitar.

Shot taken with the new Canon digital. I hate the harsh shadows. But such is life when one procrastinates to the point when the article is due and it’s raining outside all day and one can’t use the natural light that was intended, and well, fuck. Here we are with the flash indoors.

Better next week, I promise.

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Shawna may not be able to play the electric guitar, but she kicks ass at air guitar

Archives

December 27, 2006

Two Mommies and a Baby

Four years ago I finally convinced my husband, after years of begging, pleading and demanding, to have another baby. We had two boys already and I just knew that our third would complete the family and that she would be a girl. I was correct on both respects.

Conceiving Kaiya, our little girl, who you’ve seen pictures of in this column in the past, took ten long, difficult, agonizing months. Ten months! I can't tell you how many pregnancy tests on which I peed during this long process of trying to get knocked up.

A few months into this process, I decided I needed to learn more about my own body and how the whole conception process worked. I found a website called Fertility Friend and learned a lot about the female body real quick. I learned how to take my temperature every morning upon opening my eyes and how that temperature relates to ovulation. I learned all about cervical fluid and which type is hospitable to sperm and which is deadly. I learned about the cervix, where it is and how it changes based on ovulation. I also learned that sperm can live in the vaginal canal up to five days but an egg is viable for less than 24 hours, and as little as 12 hours. Basically, I learned that conception really is a miracle considering what has to happen in order for a sperm to meet an egg.

The main thing I learned is that TIMING is everything. TIMING is the key to getting pregnant.

So, here is Anne. She is someone I met through work. When I first met Anne, my “gaydar” went off and I swore she was related to Ellen. She sounds just like Ellen! Anne has a "partner". I put that in quotes because personally, I don't know why she just doesn't call her significant other her wife since they are married. (Since I’ve gotten to know Anne and Wendy better and have become closer to them, I’ve learned that they do refer to each other as “my wife”.) Anyway, I happen upon Anne's wife’s blog. Certain comments made by Wendy convince me that they are trying to have a baby. My curiosity gets the best of me and I comment to Wendy on her blog that I know what she's talking about. Can't talk about the "two-week wait" and not know what it means. For those of you who don't, the two-week wait is the period of time between ovulation (or conception) and menstruation (or pregnancy).

Anne and I start talking about how stressful it is to “try” to get pregnant. All those years of trying not to get pregnant – who knew it was so difficult? We talk about the challenges - I had my own obstacles and struggles. It took me ten long months! Wendy and Anne's challenge was that it cost a lot of money to buy sperm. My sperm was free. The sperm Wendy and Anne used cost them $500 a month. I had health insurance with my husband because we are "married". Anne and Wendy had to fight the insurance company because they were denied coverage for Wendy through Anne's policy. Why? Because the state of NC doesn't recognize gay marriage. But wait - the insurance company is a private entity. What does state law have to do with it?

So, it made me realize that even though my husband and I had the grief of a ten-month conception process, it's nothing compared to the challenges that Anne and Wendy have faced. They are beautiful people who just wanted to have a baby. And because of their challenges, their commitment to this child will be stronger than a lot of the heterosexual couples I know who have had babies.

Little Jayden was born on the 19th of this month, just a little more than a week ago. I took this picture of Wendy and Jayden in the hospital. I used my new digital, of course. Wendy looks beautiful, content and happy. Jayden looks like she’s smiling. The resemblance between mom and baby is undeniable! Next time I will get Mommy Anne in the picture and create the perfect family portrait. And I’ll use my new camera. And shoot in black and white, of course.

Technically, I got nothing. Maybe next week I’ll explore some new techniques with you that I’ve learned with the new digital. I am on vacation for the next ten days and will have plenty of time to play.

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Shawna is a recognized expert on all things sperm related

Archives

December 20, 2006

Gone Digital or Merry Christmas, Shawna!

I’ve been denying the digital world of photography forever. After working for so many years with fine grain black and white film and having total control over the printing process I had a hard time accepting digital cameras and the images that they produce. Fuck digital. It’ll never be as good as film.

All that changed for me on Sunday.

I work for an advertising agency in North Carolina. Every Christmas past, the boss planned a great day (sometimes days) of celebration. One year, it was a three-day cruise, all expenses paid, for all of the employees and their spouses. Last year, we boarded a tour bus at 7:30 on a Saturday morning, having no idea where we were going. Three hours later we stopped in Durham, NC at the mall, the boss handed all of us $500 in cash and we were given two hours to spend it. My kids wanted electronics; didn’t take me long at all to blow the whole thing, even after multiple drinks on the bus on the way there.

This year didn’t disappoint. We played “Lbay”. The boss bought a whole bunch of stuff and gave us all $500 fake money with which to bid on the items available. One of the items I won is an xBox 360. The kids will be very happy on Christmas morning. Heh. I will be very happy on Christmas morning playing the new games on the new system.

The other item I won: A Canon Rebel xti 10 megapixel digital SLR camera. 10 megapixels. TEN!

What’s a megapixel and why does this excite me? Read all about it here . Bottom line is, the more pixels in the image, the better. More pixels, more detail; more detail, the sharper the image. The result? A photographer’s hard-on.

I had never used anything more than a 5 megapixel digital camera. Shitty. Digital wasn’t there yet, the detail was poor and would never compare to t-max 100 film.

Then I used my new Canon this weekend. The detail! The sharpness! I hadn’t experienced a digital camera that produced this quality of image ever. I am sold.

I’ve been really sick so I haven’t had the opportunity to really explore my new camera yet, but I did snap off these shots of my daughter on Sunday night, who is also really sick today. She was just starting to get sick when I took these pictures, the reason why she was such a willing participant.

The eyes are sharp; I can see the detail in her hair; I can almost count her eyelashes.

I’m gonna have some fun with this camera. More digital to come!

Merry Christmas, FTTW. Hope everyone gets what they want this year! I did.

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Shawna says Santa is going to get a little extra "something" in addition to cookies and milk this year.

Archives

December 13, 2006

Lenny and Shirley

Lenny and Shirley were married a long time ago. Shirley was 16 and Lenny was in his early 30’s, I believe. Lenny and Shirley were both raised on Harkers Island, NC. Shirley was my mother’s aunt.

My mother’s family is generations deep in the history of Harkers Island and the surrounding area. The people were English immigrants and originally settled an Outer Banks “town” they named Diamond City, which was destroyed by a hurricane in 1899. Some of the people who lived in Diamond City moved inland after the storm to Harkers Island. Shirley's grandparents, Alfonzo Guthrie and Alice Hancock, had migrated from Diamond City to Harkers Island after the 1899 storm. The old stories tell of the residents moving what was left of their houses, piece by piece, to the new island. The only thing left in Diamond City today is the graveyard, most of the remaining headstones damaged by the wild horses that live on the banks. The complete story of Diamond City and the 1899 hurricane is here and is a fascinating story written by one of my cousins if you’ve got the time to read it.

The only way on or off Harkers Island was by boat until a wooden bridge was built in 1941. The island received electric service when my mother was three years old. The island had been separated from the mainland for decades, and the older generation of the people who lived there still had a variation of an old English accent. This accent was alive and well with Lenny and Shirley. The combination of Lenny’s accent and the loss of most of his teeth made it quite challenging at times to understand him. The younger generation has lost this strong English accent but they definitely don’t have the typical “Southern” accent.

Lenny worked as a cook on a dredge boat while Shirley took care of not only her own family but also had the responsibility of watching out for my mother due to my grandmother’s poor health. Very interesting people, they were, and made for a great portrait. Lenny died several years ago and Shirley died earlier this year. They were married for nearly 50 years. I’ll never forget the way Lenny wanted to smell your neck when you gave him a hug or how Shirley would cry at the drop of a dime.

This is a picture of Lenny and Shirley. I cheated a little with this photo. After I scanned the original black and white print, I manipulated the image in Photoshop and saved it as a duo-tone. I can really see the character of these two in this portrait.

Rest in peace, Lenny and Shirley.

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Shawna never heard the word impossible

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December 6, 2006

Black and White from a Color Negative

My little boy, Riley, has always been an excellent subject to photograph. He’s got beautiful skin, just slightly Asian in tone (his father is 50% Japanese) and hair that’s thick, straight as a board and almost black - but if you look real close under the light of the sun, strands of the brightest red just like his brother’s shine through.

Riley’s an introvert, a deep thinker and a budding musician. He started piano lessons about six months ago and practices without being told. He loves it. His eyes light up when he talks about piano. He’s learning to read music. As I type this I hear Bach’s Minuet coming from the other room. This is a song that his older brother, who’s about a year ahead in lessons, was learning over the summer. Riley heard Jake practicing, picked up Jake’s lesson book, asked him where to put his hands on the keyboard and taught himself the song.

The boys’ piano teacher asked me to go for a walk one evening (she lives next door) only to tell me how impressed she was with Riley’s ability. He will compare a new song he’s learning with one he learned months ago. He’ll take a song and play it at different parts of the keyboard. He experiments. He thinks.

(Can I interrupt this article to ask if anyone is watching the Billboard Awards? Is it just me or does most of this shit suck? WTF? I can’t believe people listen to some of this crap. Seriously. Am I right or am I just getting old? Can Gwen Stefani get any more annoying? Wait. Didn’t Fergi just do this stupid song? (Did I spell those names wrong? Wait, I don’t care.) The Mountain Dew commercial was the best part of the night! My husband just asked, “Have you heard a guitar tonight??”)

And now back your regularly scheduled program…

This picture of Riley I took as a series of him and his brother (remember, I do my own portraits). I shot these pictures in color but wanted to see how the color negative would translate into black and white. Not as good as with a true black and white negative, but I love Riley’s posing in this picture. He posed himself, for the most part, and the picture looks better with the color stripped out.

This is Riley, my little thinker, who I am shielding from the Billboard Music Awards tonight. Most parents protect their kids from bad language, sex and murder on TV. My kids? I try to shelter them from bad music.


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Shawna knows how to wind you up. But she won't annoy you by singing about it.

Archives

November 29, 2006

Walk a Mile in My Vans

Eleven years ago December, my husband, Marty, changed careers and started a new job. His new position required performing tasks that men of the older generation (our fathers’ age, for instance) wouldn’t dream of doing. His new position required late nights, early mornings, cleaning parts of the human anatomy one otherwise would avoid in others, being spit up on, screamed at and demanded of. He was on call 24/7.

My husband’s new job: Stay At Home Dad.

Right before our oldest son was born, Marty was laid off from his position of printing press operator. I was working as a production manager in a paper coating company and making fairly good money. We talked about what we’d do after the baby was born and decided that Marty would stay home with the baby and I would go back to work. We didn’t want anyone else raising the kids, so daycare wasn’t an option.

Eleven years and three kids later, he’s the best stay at home dad this side of the Mississippi.

I, however, am one very spoiled wife.

Marty cooks everyday. I’m not allowed in the kitchen. Sometimes I miss making dinner. I don’t do the shopping, the laundry or the vacuuming. I don’t clean the cat box (I’d never do it as well, anyway) and I don’t feed the animals. Marty makes the kids’ lunches, makes sure they do their homework as soon as they get home from school (both boys are on the Principals Honor Roll, by the way – straight A’s) and mows the lawn. He fills the gas tank in my car and gets the oil changed. I iron the kids’ school clothes and drop them off at school on the way to work. I’d say I have it fairly easy despite the fact that my job is a bitch.

Marty is a musician who teaches guitar and bass to the neighborhood kids, an old school skater who takes his boys to the skate parks and an awesome cook. Other men envy him.

Anyone can get a job; but it takes sacrifice, persistence and a special dedication to what’s important on the home front to be a Stay At Home Dad.

Our picture today is Dad with his two boys, about eight years ago. I think this picture speaks for itself.

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Shawna has never spit up on her husband

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November 22, 2006

Grab The Camera, Get In The Car And Just Drive

Once upon a time I was young, single and kid-less. During this time in my life, I had a lot more freedom to do stuff and a lot more time on my hands. Like, everyday. All day. Grab the camera; get in the car and just drive. I’ve driven to the desert, to the mountains, to the Mexican border and into Tecate, down to Ensenada, and up north to LA, to central California and even to Yosemite. I even went to Weed, CA for a few days once. Weed. It’s a real town, near the California/Oregon border. Weed. Heh!

On one particular day I drove out of San Diego County traveling East on I-78. At some point I turned left. I really don’t remember where I ended up. Why was I driving? I was looking for interesting things to photograph. Some days nothing I saw interested me. And then on other days, I would find really cool shit. When shooting with black and white film, I always look at things with my “black and white” eyes, which means I see the shadows and highlights as opposed to colors. Sometimes, when a photographer is really good, he’ll (read Ansel Adams) expose the film for the most detail in the highlights and develop the film for the most detail in the shadows. Or maybe it’s the other way around…Crap, I can’t remember now. It’s a technique developed by Adams called The Zone System. If you’re interested in learning more about it, go here here. For those of you who don’t like math (and we know who you are from Monday’s FTTW’s Late Night Typing That Class Sucked), skip the Zone System. It’s quite a complicated technique and really only works well with sheet film, which requires an expensive large format camera. I understand just enough of it to frustrate myself when I don’t get the exposure that I want. Adams was a master at black and white photography, as we see in his gallery .

So, somewhere between Escondido, CA and Julian, CA, I found The Pumps. I love this picture. There are a few things I would change if I could, but I won’t tell you what they are.

I’ll let you decide.

Tell me what you’d change about this photograph. Just curious how many different things we can isolate. Have fun!

Shawna once thought of starting a band called The Pumps.

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November 15, 2006

Kids, it’s Picture Day!

Kids, it’s picture day! Let’s go to the park. It’s time for Mom to take some portraits.

After my first kid was born, I did the same thing that moms all over America do. I went to the JC Penney Portrait Studio and had pictures taken of the little bundle of joy. Dress baby in some uncomfortable little outfit that Grandma bought (because you know that “someone” will be upset if you don’t have pictures taken in that “cute” little outfit that “someone” bought), load him in the car, feed him before we go into the studio so he doesn’t cry from starvation half way through the session, prop the kid up on some unnatural-looking platform, and then wait for 30 minutes for the kid to wake up because you just filled his belly and now he’s content and happy and fast asleep. Finally, the eyes open and the “professional photographer” gets a couple of shots. Maybe five. But then you’ve got to stop because baby is now grumpy from being prodded to wake up so his picture can be taken. Maybe one of the shots looks half way decent. Maybe. But now baby is crying and his diaper is wet and he’s just pissed at this point. You can almost hear the kid saying, “Mom, the photo shoot is now over!”

The pictures sucked. I swore I’d never do it again. I was caught in the “professional portrait” trap only once more – after my second kid was born. By the time the third kid came along, I no longer had any desire to have “professional” portraits taken of the new baby. I buy the school pictures of the boys only because I think it’s fun to line up those 8x10’s of each year to see how much the kids’ change. Even though the baby’s only two, I’m sure I’ll buy the school pictures of her, too.

As you may have surmised by this point, I take my own kid portraits. The picture this week is one of those portraits, of my two oldest kids, and one of my favorites of the boys together. I took this picture a little more than two years ago, right before the baby girl was born. In black and white, the boys look a lot alike to me. In color, the hair will throw you off – the older kid has bright red hair and the younger, very dark, almost black hair. (Yes, they have the same father – I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been asked if they are true full brothers.) And the girl has dirty blonde hair – go figure.

OK, got off on a tangent there, sorry.

Back to the photo - what can I say? The exposure is good, the lighting is good, the depth of field is perfect and the print turned out great. The expression on the little one’s face, looking back at his brother through the corners of his eyes, is priceless.

No more JC Penney pictures for us. I do my own, thank you.


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Shawna never tortures her kids with uncomfortable outfits.

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November 11, 2006

The Band Pictures

“The Band Pictures”

Anyone into photography in high school or college eventually gets asked to take the “band pictures”. This particular band’s singer was also one of my best friends. I met Shawna (yes, we have the same name) in French I class in high school. She called herself Thorn back then. She had transferred into my school, with her brother, having moved from somewhere in Orange County. Shawna drew spider webs on her face everyday, cut her own hair and sprayed it into an unmanageable mess, pierced her own ears and was bi-sexual. I was instantly drawn to her. Not because the bi-sexual thing, but because she was more of a freak than me! Her brother, Michael, was a cute little skinhead who I ended up dating for six months. Toward the end of that year, Shawna moved to Fullerton, CA with her mother and Michael to Palomar Mountain to live with his father and we lost contact with each other.

After we had all graduated from high school, Shawna and her brother eventually made their way back to San Diego and we all hooked up again. By this time she was married to Chris and the three of them found a drummer and formed a band. I can’t for the life of me remember what the drummer kid’s name was (Daniel, maybe?) or the name of the band. Shawna knew I was into photography, taking classes at the college. The group needed band pictures and asked me to take them. Of course, I agreed.

One night driving home from who knows where, I noticed this very bright spotlight type illumination coming from behind an old building. I stopped to investigate. Totally cool lighting. I promised to come back some night with a subject to photograph. When Shawna asked me to photograph the band, I remembered the old building with the bright light. I drove by the place that night to make sure the floodlight was still working. It was. A few days later, I took the band to this spot and clicked away.

The shots came out great. The lighting was really harsh and made for a dramatic setting, especially in black and white at night. My subjects were very cooperative and did everything I asked them to do. Michael, the boy sitting and my old skinhead boyfriend, looked especially dramatic that night with the way the light fell across his face.

After developing the film I was ready to print, I decided to leave the negs dusty on purpose and used more contrast than was normal. The result: it makes the photos look kinda old. The dust, combined with the harsh lighting, makes the photos look really cool, in my opinion.

Somehow, my mind saw that harsh light in real life and somewhere, in my mind, I was able to translate almost perfectly what I had envisioned onto a piece of photo paper. How this happens, I have no clue. I just know that I love it when it does.

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Shawna likes the way skin boys look under harsh lighting...

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November 4, 2006

Joshua Tree

We left Encinitas around 8 pm on a Friday night. We attempted to get on the road earlier but it just didn’t happen. Considering traffic, it most likely wouldn’t have mattered had we left any earlier that afternoon. We made the trip in my black Mazda 323 hatchback extraordinaire. And we were on a mission: photograph the absolute best landscape for our assignment.

Kathy and I were taking the same class: Advanced Black and White Photography. When the landscape assignment came up, we decided we had to get out of the city and find something cool. North San Diego County didn’t have much open land as development was never ending and the only open space to be found was at the beach or Camp Pendleton. And who wanted to see another beach shot? Not us. How boring.

We decided to go to Joshua Tree. North on the 5, to 78 East, north again on 15, then hit the 10 and go right. Three hours later, we followed the signs to one of the park’s entrances. Joshua Tree is in the middle of the high dessert and there’s not much there but weird trees and big rocks. At least that’s how it looked 18 years ago. Who knows how close the golf course grass grows to the edge of the park now.

It was dark. Very, very dark. Not a light in sight. No moon that night. We decided to take a look around. We drove. As we came upon the Joshua trees, the car’s headlights were shining into those strange looking trees and the light gave the trees an eerie lifelike quality. We were mesmerized. It was one of the most awesome sights either one of us had ever seen.

We wanted to be awake before sunrise and decided it was time to stop for the night. We found a small parking lot that clearly stated “no overnight parking” and slept in the car. Just before sunrise, we were startled awake by a park ranger who promptly ticketed us for parking in an area that clearly stated “no overnight parking”. We thanked the ranger for waking us before the sun came up and decided it was time to find our landscapes and start pushing our shutter buttons.

We drove through the desert, through the Joshua trees, down the highway with the car’s headlights beaming through these oddly shaped trees that looked very surreal. We found our spot, pulled off to the side of the road and waited for the sun to come up as we fixed our tripods and loaded our film. At some point, as the sun was rising, I ran back to the car, opened all of the windows, threw U2’s Joshua Tree in the tape deck, turned the volume up full blast and spent the next hour photographing Joshua trees in Joshua Tree State Park listening to U2’s Joshua Tree album. I’m not sure how they did it, but U2 captured the feeling of a Joshua Tree with that album. Or maybe I captured the feeling of U2 in Joshua Tree…. Whatever it was, it was powerful.

Later that afternoon, we found a camp ground in which to legally pitch our tent and stay the night. We happened upon some other campers who generously shared their beer with us. We spent the next few hours sitting at the picnic table at our camp with a couple of guys we didn’t know, drinking beer and smoking cigarettes. It was dark except for our campfire. I have no recollection of what we ate the whole time we were in the desert except for the diner we stopped in on our way out of Joshua Tree. Funny the things we remember, or choose not to. I do remember that we had a hell of time pitching that tent, though.

The next morning, we explored more of the park and came upon the phallic rock formations. Of course, we had to stop and photograph them. We laughed our asses off at those rocks. The rock climbers there that day looked at us like we were idiots.

So, I have two photographs today; a tree and a couple of rocks.

The tree shot is a classic Joshua tree. I shot this photo as the sun was rising and the shadows that were cast are kinda cool. Now, go find your U2 cd and play Where the Streets Have No Name really loud while staring at this picture… Can you feel it? No? Well, maybe you had to be there.

Next up we have what I call Penis Rock. Do you see the phallic resemblance? Surely you do. Other than the resemblance to the male anatomy, which still makes me laugh, I like the details and the light and shadow in this image.

That’s it for today, kids. Next week, tune in for more portraits. Right now, I gotta go listen to Running To Stand Still.

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Shawna may or may not have found what she's looking for.

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October 28, 2006

Erica Talks to Ghosts

Ever have that feeling that someone is watching you? Or that something is behind you? Under your bed? In the closet? Just get that weird feeling that you’re not alone? Well, according to my friend, Erica, it’s because we’re not alone. In keeping with the Halloween theme here at FTTW, I thought it would be fun to interview Erica and get her perspective on our ghostly friends. Monday I emailed Erica and asked, “May I interview you regarding your experiences with ghosts?” And she answered, “Strange request, but yes, you may.”

Q. How old were you when you first realized that you could recognize the presence of ghosts?

A. I was probably eight. My grandfather passed over unexpectedly - he suffered a heart attack while he was driving home one night - and he came to tell me not to be afraid and that he would protect me. He told me to listen with my heart and I would hear other spirits. And occasionally, I do hear them.

Q. What does it feel like to know that there is a ghost in your home?

A. Most of the time it’s comforting. David’s grandfather keeps me company a lot.

Q. Have you experienced ghosts in every place you’ve lived?

A. Yes. Whenever I move to a new place, I think they travel with me for a while until I’m settled.

Q. Why do you name the ghosts you meet?

A. Oh, I don’t really name them. I “feel” their names. You know, the name they had before they died.

Q. Have you seen these ghosts or do you only feel them?

A. What I actually see are orbs of energy that I believe to be spirits.

Q. Why do you think ghosts hang out with us? Why don’t they just move on to wherever it is that our spirits go after death?

A. I think it depends on the person and the spirit - maybe they are trying to tell us something, waiting for us to tell them something - trying to guide us, or maybe they are just simply lonely.

Q. Out of all of the ghosts you have experienced, which is your favorite? Why?

A. George was my favorite! He was a middle-aged slave in my renovated slaves quarters home in Charlottesville, VA. George would make noises, open and close cabinets, play with the dog and one day he actually left an imprint on the couch as if he had been sitting in front of the fireplace.

Q. Who’s been your least favorite? Why?

A. Nora - she was a dark spirit. When I was in high school, my friends and I would use the Ouija board and when Nora would make her presence known, she would tell of killings, wars, end of the world type stuff and we would ask Frank (my grandfather) to come talk to us instead. His positive energy would override her negative energy.

Q. Did you know any of the ghosts you’ve met before they died?

A. Yes, my best friend Michele - she said she would visit me and that I would know it was her. I keep cards that she had sent to me between the pages of books on the bookshelves - when she visits she drops the cards on the floor to let me know she’s around.

Q. What’s your favorite ghost story?

A. George and Bo (my companion dog) were playing late one night in the house in Charlottesville. Bo was pacing in circles around the couch, barking at George and pouncing at him in play. I was alone, laying in bed and told them it was too late to be playing and for everyone to go to bed. Then I heard the basement door open and I heard the footsteps going down; Bo hopped up on the couch and all became quiet in the house. I said “thank you”. It was only a two-room cottage so I could see what was going on in the house no matter where I was.

Q. Is there anyone with us now?

A. Mattie. I “felt” her when I first started working here. No real “details”… Ivy and I were talking in her office and I made a comment about her tree needing a name. At that moment, the name Mattie came to me. Ivy said, “No, that’s the ghost’s name.” For some reason I had a “feel” for that energy.

Q. Did you ever watch that old TV show, The Ghost and Mrs. Muir?

A. Yes, it was one of my favorites!

Erica and her husband, David (a retired pro baseball player who played 1st base for the Braves and puts up with Erica’s quirkiness on a daily basis, “And that’s some serious shit”, says David) live and work on the coast of North Carolina. Erica talks to ghosts and gives all of her plants human names.

My photo this week is another of my graveyard shots. I had another picture in mind for this story, but once I scanned the image and saw it on my screen, I realized it is quite boring. It’s a shot I set up with a wooden cross, barley, a woman kneeling by the cross and some well-placed hands creating the image of shadows reaching down to the woman. Sounds like a good shot, right? Well, it turned out very stiff and staged. This shot of the headstone I like for the shadows. And the composition. And the darkness of the background. And as in all of my graveyard shots, I wonder who was with me that day.


Shawna sometimes sees ghosts, but mostly when she leaves Scooby Doo on the tv.

Archives

October 21, 2006

Robin and the Ghost

Robin was an interesting little girl, often saying things beyond her years. I overheard her ask her mother to tell her brother to stop bothering her because, as she put it, “He’s antagonizing me”. She was six years old when she used that big word. I don’t know where she learned it or how she knew what it meant, but I found it funny as hell that she knew how to use it in a sentence. She was, and still is, too smart for her own good.

A few years later Robin decided she didn’t want to live at home anymore and told her teacher that he father beat her. I’m fairly certain it wasn’t more than 24 hours later when Child Protective Services (CPS) walked into my brother’s house and removed all three kids. This was a devastating event in our family and left scars on some of us that will never heal. The charges were unsubstantiated but in the state of California, in cases of child abuse, one is guilty until proven innocent. All three kids were in foster homes for months to come.

The state finally decided that the boys could go back home but Robin was being transferred to the psychiatric ward of San Diego’s Children’s Hospital. She spent the next several months at the hospital. Since I was living in downtown San Diego at the time, I visited her a few times. The visits were surreal – Robin had a misunderstood intelligence about her and talking to her was like talking to an adult. She was probably eight at the time. My brother and his family had decided to move to the east coast and live with our parents until they could get back on their feet. They didn’t want to leave their daughter in San Diego, but financially, they had no choice.

My father had been worried about the kids for months. He was especially concerned for Robin and called her at the hospital at least once a week. He spent a lot of time on the phone with her, just talking. He just wanted to know she was OK.

My father died before Robin was released from the hospital and allowed to rejoin her family on the east coast. The doctors at the hospital didn’t want her to become upset so they asked her parents “not to mention” the death of her grandfather. They were afraid she wouldn’t take it so well and flip out. Fucking doctors.

Fast forward several weeks later. Robin is talking to her dad on the telephone. She’s quiet and distracted and her dad asks her what’s the matter.

Robin: “Daddy, how’s Grandpa? He hasn’t called me.”

Robin’s Dad: “Fine. He’s fine.”

Robin: “Are you sure?’ Cuz I saw him in my room yesterday.”

Robin saw my father in her room at the hospital after he had died. He was checking up on her, making sure she was OK. My father had also visited Robin’s two brothers a few months after his death. But I suppose that’s a story for another day, though.

This is Robin. I’m not sure what I did here because I simply don’t remember, but I’m thinking I borrowed a camera lens from school and that’s how I achieved the distorted view in this picture. The shot of Robin by herself is a much better exposure than the one of her with her cousin; however, I love the composition in the shot of the two kids together.

The shot of Robin by herself stands out because of the eyes. First rule of portraiture, focus on the eyes. When viewing a portrait, the first thing we tend to look at is the face; therefore, it’s imperative that the eyes are in focus.

Both of these pictures could be better. The highlights are a bit too bright and some of the detail in the girls’ faces is lost. Someday, after I invest in the equipment and set up the darkroom in my garage, I’ll print these pictures again. For now, though, I still think they’re cool shots.

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Shawna lives, works and snaps photos somewhere on the east coast.

Archives

October 13, 2006

Headstoned

October means Halloween. Halloween means ghosts. Ghosts remind me of death, and of death, graveyards. All of this leads us to 1985 when I was 17 years old. This was a fine time to be a teenager, especially for those into music and multiple ear piercings. If we go back a few more years, we would be in 1983 and this would be the year that it started. “It” as defined by my evolution into a “freak,” as my father so lovingly put it. May he rest in peace…OK, full circle here. It’s funny how this happens.

1983. My best friend turns me on to Duran Duran. Before my parents realize what’s happening, it’s 1985, I’m dying my hair black, cutting it as short as I can get away with (what I really wanted a mohawk but my mother would’ve shit her pants), wearing way too much make up and listening to a variety of punk bands. I was a freak and most of my friends were freaks, too. We were cool.

So, as any self-respecting gang of (wannabe) punks would do, we hung out at graveyards, drank, smoked cigarettes and consumed a variety of drugs. One particular graveyard we visited is located in Fallbrook, CA. I was fascinated with this place. It was old. It was rundown. It was just cool. By this time, I was also into photography and promised myself that I would come back during the day and take some pictures. Three years later I made my way back to that graveyard, my Nikon in hand and t-max 100 loaded in the camera.

The class I was taking at the time was advanced black and white and the final for the class was to be a series of five shots, subject of our choice. As soon as our instructor handed out the assignment, I knew what was to be my subject. The graveyard.

The two shots I am featuring today are from that series. These two are my favorite from that day at the graveyard with my camera. Black spiky hair and dog collar chain necklaces were a thing of the past. But now I had my camera and I had an assignment.

The first picture, call this one Hargreave, I love for many reasons. Observe the angles, the contrast, the shallow depth of field. The name on the headstone is the sharpest part of the image. The letters draw the eye into the center of the subject and the out-of-focus tree branches also help guide the eye to the focal point. The stark contrast of the white picket fence in the foreground and how this somehow does not distract from the subject is perhaps left to the secret of photography. See the detail of the leaves on the ground. Notice the shadow on the headstone. And don’t forget about the full-frame affect with the ragged black border. Composition of the finest I’ve ever achieved.

The second picture, the one I call Pickle, is just cool because of the all the fences. The fences draw the viewer into the subject. Again, the composition is what attracts me to this picture. Someone pointed out to me the other day that the deceased woman’s husband is named William Pickle. Bill Pickle. Now, that shit is funny. Bill Pickle! May you rest in peace.

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Shawna live somewhere on the east coast and still istens to Duran Duran

Archives

September 30, 2006

FTTW Photography


FILM AND DEVELOPER - Shooting in black and white film.
Every other Saturday, by Shawna



Year: 1988
Class: Advanced Black and White Photography
Assignment: Portraiture
Subject: Felicia

The one subject that I have always been praised for by various photography instructors and observers of my work is portraiture. I have shot many portraits over the years. The most recent are of my kids and you’ll be seeing many more of them in the future.

Today, though, I will tell you what I love about this shot of Felicia. She was my friend, Jerry’s girlfriend; very pretty girl. She had long curly blonde hair, beautiful eyes and perfect skin. And I had an assignment. I asked her if she’d let me photograph her and she agreed. The idea for this shoot had already been composed in my mind. I knew I would take the shots in the dining room of the apartment that I shared with my sister, using one floodlight as my light source and a white sheet tacked to the wall as the backdrop. I also knew that she’d be wearing a black lace shirt that I owned, lost somewhere in the back of my closet. I knew that my Grandfather’s antique chair would be involved, the same chair that is still floating around the family somewhere.

I experienced my first photography class when I was a freshman in high school. That was a long time ago, twenty-four years to be exact. My first “real” camera was a Canon that my father bought me. I wore that Canon out throughout high school. When I started my college photography classes, I decided it was time for a new camera. I bought a Nikon FM, a completely manual model, on the recommendation of my instructor. I have always shot by manually setting the f-stop and shutter speed based on the lighting conditions. I got very good at judging light. To this day I don’t own nor do I know how to use a light meter.

It wasn’t long after I started my second semester of photography classes at the local community college that I got the bug for a square negative. I’d read articles, talked to my instructors and paid attention to what the other students were using. I found a Hasselblad for sale in the paper, called the guy and made my purchase about three days later. I was now the proud owner of a medium format camera.

I used the Hasselblad when I photographed Felicia. I attached the camera to the tri-pod, set up the floodlight and filled that square to best of my ability. I shot one roll of 12-exposure t-max 100. When I was ready to take the picture, I composed it in the viewfinder, filling the entire square. As I was taking this picture, I knew I wanted to print it without losing any of the image in the neg. I knew that if my negative carrier were slightly larger than the negative, the result would be a ragged black border around the perimeter of the picture. Those black lines worked perfectly with my subject and composition. The composition turned out exactly as I had hoped. The lighting was as perfect as the exposure itself. As the image came to life in the tray of developer, even under the red light of the darkroom, I knew the shot was exactly as I had envisioned.

This is Felicia. She is one of my better portraits. [click for larger image]

Shawna writes and shows off her photography at My Opinions are Free

Film and Developer appears every other Saturday. On alternating Saturdays, we feature:

FTTW PHOTOGRAPHY - Digital photography. How we do it. Why we do it. Photo sharing. Every other Saturday, various artists

September 16, 2006

Life in black and white

Welcome to a new feature of FTTW: Saturday photography.

Every other Saturday afternoon Shawna will bring you "Film and Developer: The Art of Black and White Photography"

One Saturday a month we will have someone write about digital photography.

On the other Saturday, we will have a themed reader photography submission day. We'll announce the theme on Wednesday or Thursday and you'll send us your pics and we'll have some fun complimenting each other. More details to come on that next week.

If you would like to do a one shot column on digital photography (we'd like to have a different author each week), please shoot us an email at submissions@fasterthantheworld.com.

And now, Shawna's first Film and Developer column.

Black and white. Two of my favorite descriptions of the absence of color and light are black and white. This is especially true in relation to photography. The highlights, the shadows, the shades of gray, all blended together in a way that absolutely fascinates my mind and directs my emotion. For me, seeing a good black and white photograph causes the same feeling that music does in others; stirs an emotion so deep its indescribable. You know, similar to the chills that you get when you hear a person singing who has an awesome voice? Yeah that. Same feeling.

Continue reading "Life in black and white" »

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