The Next Step

Sometimes words and images go perfectly together. Case in point:

The Next Step

This is a shot from a local lake one misty morning over ten years ago. It’s quiet, meditative. It almost evokes a zen-garden feeling. In itself it’s an interesting enough picture. Not my favorite or best shot, and certainly not my worst.

But over the years it's become my best-seller. And I think it's because of its title. More than one person has commented that it’s the caption that really makes the picture for them. Reportedly, it brought someone out of depression after the loss of a loved one. Others have their own reactions to it and reflections branching out from it.

The title and image serve each other symbiotically as a kind of focusing mechanism for a concept -- different for everyone who has commented on it, but similar in function. It’s the best example I have of words enhancing images.

o - o - o

Interestingly, though it's a good seller (all things being relative), I took it with a crappy old Sony Cybershot DSC-P8, which was a 3.2 megapixel camera. It takes a lot of care to get a good print, and even then I can't print it any larger than about 8x11 inches. But it just shows that it doesn't have to be about the equipment.

Painting with Water

Over the years, I've found myself giving the exact same working title to many of my images, because the name fits so naturally. The title that comes into my head before any other is this: Watercolor. In itself, it's a nondescript word to describe a photograph--more a medium than a subject. But when I'm editing or simply viewing these images, it's the most fitting title.

I've toyed with calling them things like "Watercolor #2" (or #2,000, or #6,439). But I don't need such a naming scheme to identify what is clearly a very strong theme to many of my images. I am, simply put, addicted to making photos of water in its various states: liquid, solid, gas (steam, mist, vapor). I once even had a special sub-section of a photo show devoted to this theme.

There is infinite variety in such a subject; no two images can ever be the same (well, at least not for the liquid and gas phases). Heraclitus said no one ever steps in the same river twice, and this is also true for the person who takes two or more pictures of that river. It's not just that water is an ever changing subject in itself, but in its liquid phase it's also an ever changing canvas of reflections.

If you're one of the 5 people reading this, you already know this about me and my images.

All this to say here are three recent photos (two of which I've deleted from recent blog posts in order to do some quality editing).

"Camo"

"Frenzy"

"Waking Up"

Phall Pholiage Foto Run

Fall is well and truly under way in our corner of Germany. After a good 10 days or so of cold rain, the weather cleared, and warmed up, in time for the weekend. Anne and I went out for a couple runs this morning. It's more than one, because Anne ran hers and I, nursing an aging knee back into shape, shuffled mine.

But that's okay, because I was there for the sights, smells, and sensations as much as for the run. After the first hundred meters running together, I made the first of many stops for pictures of the exploding colors. Anne continued on her way and I didn't see her again until I drove home a few hours later (she ran home).

After the first five miles, I stopped for a beer at a forest Gaststätte, to look through my photos, soak in the sun, and wave away the many bees warmly buzzing around the dishes of cakes and torts the clientele were enjoying on the terrace.

Then I beer-burped the last mile back to the car, collecting pretty leaves on the way.

Here are ten keepers from this perfect morning (click on a photo and use the left/right arrow keys to scroll):

I call this one "Adam and God"

Weird/Not Weird

The only thing that’s strange is that nothing is strange. Dropped into a foreign land, yet not at all foreign.

After our departure in September 2017, we kept in the back of our minds the desire to get back to Europe some day in the future. But after four serious moves* in only two and a half years, we were hoping to stay put for a while. If for no other reason than to take a rest. We bought property, we were happy to be near the kids and family... Time for a breather. Time to discover a little of what America had to offer, after 19 years abroad.

And then... Opportunity knocked, and here we are back in Stuttgart (five moves in under four years).

The first weeks, we were pinching ourselves. Differently from the last moves, we knew where everything was, how everything worked. The German began flowing again. We found our favorite running trails, our favorite grocery products, our old friends, our familiar sights. We slipped back into this life as if we were coming home.

It's a weird thing, but the little, unassuming leaf at right encompasses more than you'd think.

The next several pictures show some of the sights we've returned to, and are appreciating to the fullest. (Click to see them larger)

* Stuttgart-Tbilisi (Nov 15); Tbilisi-Stuttgart (Nov 16); Stuttgart-Honolulu (Sep 17); Honolulu-Washington D.C. (Apr 18)

Guess Who's Back

Right. So it's been about a year since the last post, and before that another year, and before that about four years. I've decided to cave in to the overwhelming popular demand and resurrect this little corner of Cyberia. I'm going to shift focus in A Little Light Writing away from exclusively language and photography, and make it more of a place I provide updates to the one or two people I know want them.

Why?

I quit Facebook over a year ago, for a number of reasons -- not least of which was the sour feeling FaceBookLife had begun generating.

I'm also currently on an Instagram cleanse. I had started an account to showcase my photography (go see it! @yash.holbrook). Which was fine, but two things happened: 1) I began taking more photos with my phone than with my real camera, and 2) I wasted a lot of time scrolling through my feed and those of others. I'll eventually go back once I've broken the habit, but for now I'm just trying to be bored -- i.e., not tickle my eyes with little squares, and not thinking of things I see in terms of whether it would look good as a little square.

But I'm still taking pictures I would ordinarily share on FB or IG, outlets I've now cut off. So I will start using this blog as that outlet. So let's start with my morning's ride to work through my Stuttgart forests. In particular, a misty sunny October morning at Bärensee.

(A favorite picture spot)

I'll take this opportunity to highlight these are not iPhone pictures.

Portraits of an Intimate Nature

Time for a post on photography...

I've got a few running themes that go through much of my photography. Some time ago, I decided I wasn't a landscape photographer, though I take plenty of pictures of nature. My nature shots tend to be more about details, close-ups — and yet it's not macro photography.

It occurred to me to begin thinking of my nature photography as portraits, intimate portraits in a way. Some quiet natural detail or moment -- often out of context.* I came up with this blog entry's title, meant as a play on words and also as a characterization of many of my nature images.

Rather than spend more words to try to describe what I mean, here is a selection of fifteen images to show you.

Portraits of an Intimate Nature

All of these pictures share a quiet, contemplative feeling that I can only describe as "intimate".

o - o - o

* "Out of context" is itself a running theme I apply to more than my nature photography.

Shots I Wish I'd Taken: Namibian Trees (Lanting)

You may have seen this one... Franz Lanting's image of camel thorn trees circulated around* the internet earlier this year.

One of the amazing things about this shot is that it is not a fake. Though it reminds me of a painting you might get if Gauguin were crossed with Matisse and the resulting artist decided to paint a landscape, this is a straight-up, brilliantly composed, photo. Plus, it's trees!

Camel Thorn Trees, Franz Lanting, National Geographic (June 2011)

- o - o -

* Is "circulating around" a redundant phrase?

Shots I Wish I'd Taken: Shadows In the Desert (Steinmetz)

Speaking of shadows... Wow.

Camels, shot by George Steinmetz for National Geographic, Feb 2005
(This particular version borrowed from Snopes here.
Go to Steinmetz's website for more fantastic images.)

Thanks, Karey.

Seeing Things That Aren't There

As I scroll through my photo collection, something becomes very clear: I like to capture reflections and shadows. In fact, after tree images, such “projection” shots are probably the single biggest category of shots I take.

[Click thumbnails for larger versions.]

Still Life

Three Stooges

Reflecting on Elegance

I used to shoot stacks of chopped wood compulsively. I never met one I didn’t want to immortalize as a priceless and unique little rectangle. Ditto for steps and stairs...couldn’t pass a staircase without snapping it. Even as I pressed the shutter release, I knew it was not the photo I imagined. But *click* went the shutter.

I no longer feel compelled to shoot these subjects. For some odd reason, many many stacks and stairs look alike. Exbhibit A:

It’s not that they don’t sometimes make great images; I’ve simply found that my compulsion to snap them rarely produces “keeper” shots. Now I’m a little more disciplined with those subjects.

Starwood

Woodwall

Woodchuck Challenge

With reflections and shadows it’s different. I not only shoot them compulsively, I notice them everywhere. And here I can say I’ve never — well, almost never — met a reflection or shadow photograph I didn’t like. They’re all keepers! (Someone else’s eyes might glaze over, but I prize every such shot...)

Intruder | Newport | Almost

Montblanc | Berlin Abstract | Kadett | Market Fountain (clockwise)

Trees

Reflecting on Reflecting

What’s so special about reflections and shadows? For me, I think the key thought is projection. These projections refer to something in the physical world, but they aren’t themselves the objects. It’s the fascination of visually capturing something that isn’t really there. When we look at a reflection or shadow, we’re seeing a sort of ghostly suggestion of the original. It’s not even three-dimensional, more like a painting or drawing traced by light on a more physical canvas of water, glass, or a wall.

And it’s a painting that changes constantly, maybe never to repeat itself exactly...

Lakes

Lamps

Windows

Miscellaneous

Windows II

Windows III

Welcoming Buildings Redux

Some time ago I posted a series of photos highlighting my penchant for taking shots of buildings from imposing angles. Here's another, from a recent whirlwind stroll through downtown Bruges.

I chose the title to juxtapose the function of the church with its welcoming demeanor. This is Sint-Salvator (Holy Savior) Cathedral. It definitely screams "C'mon in!"

Peace and Love

Welcome to Casa Frankenstein, Motel Bates, etc.

Had a slideshow of my photos playing on a digital frame the other day and — I have to admit it — I found myself gazing at them.

A few images cycled through and I noticed something I hadn’t before: I like imposing buildings taken at an angle. What’s more, I like them in black and white. Two flipped by on the frame and immediately they reminded me of others I’d taken. I found four in my archive without even trying.

One of them ("Ministry of Intimidation") has already appeared in a different post, so I won’t repost it, but you can see it here.

The other three are:

House of Learning (University of Stuttgart, Vaihingen)

Dr. Frankenstein Slept Here (Bad Wimpfen "Blue Tower")

Bates Mountain Retreat (Mer de Glace, Chamonix)

I wonder if I'm secretly into Gothic horror or something...