For the lack of seasons in Irving, Texas, there is a surprising abundance of color. I took my camera with me to campus today to take pictures of the screen printing and lithography equipment, so that I could post more about my exhibition, including processes as well as the beginnings of a description of my thesis for the installation; but instead I ended up with a memory card full of photos of autumn foliage and the desire to do nothing but write extensive prose about the vibrancy of everything.
I began playing with the lens while taking photos with a low shutter speed, because the blur added a dynamism the colors of the still leaves couldn’t create by themselves. I was intrigued by the way the colors blended, and the overall painterly effect of the shapes.
I came upon a friend while I was out, and decided to attempt a different take on portraiture, distinct from the crisp, vibrant effect, which is usually my goal.
The rush of finals week and grad school applications is lost in the simplicity of color, the quiet of the grey sky against the quickly turning leaves.
Next semester I’m going to incorporate a lot more photography into my prints. I realize that from the time I bought that yard sale camera when I was nine years old, all I’ve ever wanted to do was to be a photographer. I just always seem to forget that until I get a camera in my hands, and I can’t focus on anything else. Photography, by its very accessibility, has lost a significant amount of credibility as an art form, and that’s very possibly what intrigues me the most about the prospect of exploring it. It’s fascinating, to me, to watch the reversion in modern photography to the painterly, impressionistic style of those artists who sought over a century ago to move away from the cold, impersonal documentation of the camera.
Life, you cyclical dog, you.
Now, on to that studying I’ve been pleasantly distracted from for four hours.