More on Exhaustion and the Creative Process...

A (long) while ago, I wrote this entry about exhaustion and the creative process.

Today, I stumbled on another take on the idea by Brian Eno. This site excerpted it from an interview Eno did in 1977 for a publication called "Melody Maker." Eno was sharing a conversation he'd had with his friend, the painter Peter Schmidt:

"I describe[d] an experience I had in Scotland recently where I climbed a very steep hill at twilight - absentmindedly not paying much attention to where I was going - and came to a halt, breathless and exhausted, on a small plateau near the summit. For the first time I looked to see where I was.

The plateau was covered with dead ferns, which glowed a brilliant fiery orange in the dusk. I was tired enough not to try to reduce the experience to words and concepts, so I just stood open-mouthed for some minutes.

This was an instance of exhaustion as an aid to perception - presumably the conscious mind resigns this continual obsession with classification and the attendant reassurance at times like this, and so the quality of the experience is unfiltered."

Any state that allows an escape from the relentless inner workings my own mind is of interest to me - total exhaustion was not something I had considered!

San Francisco Notes: Navigating My Imagination*

* The title of the Joseph Cornell exhibit at SF MOMA which was the impetus for my trip was “Navigating the Imagination.” So, yes, this blog post title is almost 100% stolen.

It’s been over a month since my fairytale trip to San Francisco (getting to see the major Cornell exhibit, traveling with someone who actually wanted to go to thrift stores, seeing an art show about book covers, etc. etc. etc.) and I have yet to go back and find the books, websites and artists I made notes about. Here - do it with me (and enjoy some stories on the way):

• Reading the New York Times (Friday, 10/26) all the way through while waiting for my flight out of PDX. Things from various articles I wrote down:
- www.carstennicolai.de
- L.A. artists Amir Zaki, James Welling, Catherine Opie, Matt Mullican
- David Lynch to his actors: “You are solid.”
- Sleepwalkers video by Doug Aiken projected on the side of NYC MOMA
- Ghiberti’s “Gates of Paradise” will be at the Seattle Art Museum in the next year- and won’t leave Italy again after
- Mary Cassatt drypoint/aquatint print “Gathering Fruit”
- “Staring Back” photos at Peter Blum Chelsea gallery by Chris Marker. Films of his?

• From AIGA 50 Books/50 Covers exhibit at Chronicle Books HQ:
- Robert Polidori: After the Flood

• At the AIGA event, running into a woman in a red hat and cape we had chatted with earlier that day during an incredibly crowded, rowdy bus ride. Turns out she’s the co-founder of the San Francisco Center for the Book.

• The Ferry Building in general as a wonderful wonderland of incredible food. Especially Brianna’s Corner’s Custard Bomboloni and just about anything from Boulette’s Larder.

• Seeing a guy at the crowded farmer’s market and thinking - I think that’s Rena’s husband. But no, I’m sure it’s not - I’ve only seen, like, two pictures of him on flickr. Then asking Rena later in the day if Derek had been in the market that morning, to which she replied, “Yeah, did you see him?” to which I replied, “Yeah, I totally did.”

• Also at Rare Device, running into Susan Stars, a fellow Portlander and national craft celebrity. I’d brought a few of my necklaces along on the trip with the thought of giving one or more away to people if the occasion presented itself. There it was. That was neat.

• The engulfing, spectacular, and magical rooms at SF MOMA where I saw more things by Joseph Cornell all in one place than I’ll probably ever see again in my life. And the accompanying ginormous book has the most beautiful reproductions of his work I’ve ever seen. Yes, I bought it.

• From one of the curator’s placards in the Joseph Cornell exhibit:

“European royalty and affluent professionals from the 1500s to the 1700s gathered works of art, illustrated texts and maps, coins, scientific devices, seashells, and other natural specimens from around the world to create "cabinets of curiosities." Dense arrangements in drawers, chests, and glass-fronted cases in private chambers suggested a collector's highly personal view of the cosmos in miniature. Like his European counterparts, Cornell assembled elements in a matrix of metaphors designed to incite wonder, curiosity, and contemplation about the physical and spiritual interrelationship of man and nature.

Cornell also absorbed his family's Victorian sensibility of gathering and recycling things as talismans of ‘what else were scattered and lost.’ Well-furnished Victorian homes featured ‘art corners’ with assorted natural and cultural souvenirs displayed on shelves or in curio cabinets. For the first time in Western culture, children were encouraged to collect as an educational activity, and their containers of personal treasures were dubbed ‘schoolboys’ museums.” In combining the traditions of two eras, Cornell expressed his appreciation of curiosity as an ongoing and intimate pursuit of knowledge and experience.”

Read more text from the exhibit here.

• Books mentioned in the exhibit as being influential for Cornell at some time in his life that seem worth finding out more about:
- The Riddle of Emily Dickinson
- Ann of Oxford Street

• My own note: “Love of birds: willingness to accept on a deep level the otherness of animals.”

• On a crowded elevator, listening to an SF MOMA tour guide recount a story about the first group she ever led, which was comprised of senior citizens: “'I think we can fit everyone on the elevator - I don’t want to lose anyone.' To which a voice in the back corner of the elevator replied, ‘There are a few people I wouldn’t mind losing.’”

• Books at the SF MOMA store:
- Tico and the Golden Wings
- Stones, Bones & Stitches
- The Art Book for Children
- Pre-Zolo
- Reading Women
- The New Earth From Above
- Living Artfully
- Punk House
- The Plentitude, Rich Gold
- Wabi Sabi
- Foolsgold
- Atlas Schmatles
- Picturing & Poeting
- The Age of Feminine Drawing
• Notes from the SF Museum of Art & Craft
- Book: Celebrating Modern Art: The Anderson Collection
- Book: The Arts & Crafts Movement in California
- Artist: Squeak Carnwath
- Web: hirokokurihana.com
- Artist: Marcie McGoldrick - ceramics

• Made note of the name “Marie Watts” ?

• A Coloring Book For the Lazy by Harriet Russell - seen at Rare Device in “Play Pen” a book featuring children’s illustrators.

• In the Castro District, trying to get to Tartine Bakery and having major navigational challenges. Forced to get breakfast at the nearest location or face fainting/escalation of crankiness. Ending up at Little Orphan Andy’s, the hangout of pretty much exclusively gay men. One of the waiters was wearing a utilikilt, S&M suspenders, and a black leather belt with the word NUDIST spelled out in silver studs. Despite being outsiders, we were treated with extreme kindness by our waiter, who referred to his customers as “my darlings,” “my pumpkins,” etc. We were referred to as “gentlewomen.” I’ll take it. Laurie took a picture of the menu.

• Seeing the Darjeeling Limited at the Sundance Kabuki Theater in Japantown.

• Looking hard for a particular store that held the promise of being like walking though a Jospeh Cornell box , being disappointed with the reality of it then stumbling on Yone Beads (thanks to Laurie's keen eye), without a doubt the most magical and amazing bead store I've even been in. Yone Beads was like being in Joseph Cornell's basement workshop - special trinkets and colors and history everywhere.

Truly amazing trip. Good thing I scheduled in all that serendipity.

A Super Great Birthday Day

I had a super-fun birthday day, and thought I'd post a little record of my adventures here for posterity, and because you might want to do some of this stuff too, on any old day. It was basically an art and food extravaganza - two of my very favorite things. Here's the list of events in order of occurrence:

• Birthday Waffles at Jacé Gacé - holy toledo, those are yummy. Mine looked like the one in this picture, except it also had chocolate sauce.



• Elizabeth Leach Gallery to see Gee's Bend Quilts. I only really liked the one in this picture. It's more about the colors for me than anything, I guess. But I also do like the primitive, willy nilly abstract patchworking effect. Oh, by the way, this one cost about $16,000. So I'm totally getting it. Right.




• Blackfish Gallery - I liked the Karen Ehlers pieces in her series "Under the Dogwood Tree." Unfortunately, no images from that series are available online. I grabbed this one from her Web site - apprently it's untitled.


• PDX - I had a great conversation with the docent about the pieces they were showing by D.E. May. You really do need some context to appreciate them. My spin on it is that May has created "templates" - objects that refer to the kinds of paper tools we handle all of the time. These documents become useless as tools when taken out of context, but still have beauty and a character that comes from the touch of so many hands. Or something like that : ) I was really drawn to them, felt lucky to be in a room alone with them, and have such a knowlegdeable and enthusiastic person on site to talk about them. I will definitely keep an eye on May's work in the future.



• Pulliam Deffenbaugh had a Matthew Picton - who lives in Ashland, Oregon, by way of London - show of maps whose features are made from cut pieces of brightly painted enamel that are raised up from the surface with pins. They are humongous and stunning in that "I cannot believe how much time this must have taken" and "Crikey - how much patience and precision would be required" kind of way. (The one in this picture is of Portland and measures roughly 5' x 4') They sparked thoughts about what maps are, why cities look the way they do (how form/planning impacts function), how maps relate to reality, etc. They really should be seen in person.

I also saw in a little catalogue pictures of Picton's "Road Surface" drawings. Self-explanatory, and very beautiful. This one was done in Medford, Oregon.



• Relish Design: Lots of neat things in there, many of which are quite affordable. I especially liked these necklaces from Danish ceramacist Anne Black - they're really lovely.


• Gallery 114: Some nice Vuillard-inspired work by Gillian Holbrook who was just starting her shift as the docent for the day (the gallery is a co-op). It was nice to talk with someone who also liked that somewhat-obscure French guy.


• Took some pictures walking back to my car:

• Quick lunch at Pastini, then off to see The Bourne Ultimatum - finally!! Good times.

• Then off to a stunning and wonderful (as usual)dinner at Park Kitchen. The flavors of each of the dishes are so delicate and layered - I have loved everything I've ever eaten there. Ben and I shared:
- Bocce: Maker's Mark Bourbon, a splash of maraschino liquor, Campari and fresh orange
- Salt & Pepper: Gin, Peychaud's Bitters, fresh grapefruit and lime, served up with a salt rim
- Crazy good bottle of French wine
- Fried green beans with an aioli dipping sauce
- Octopus salad
- Terrine of the day - country pork
- Roasted chilies, beets and walnuts
- Lamb deliciousness
- Plum nocello ice cream in chocolate walnut cracker

Now that was one happy birthday!

Beyond Symmetry

Symmetry in nature gets a lot of press. But what might we learn about the creator when we see shapes like this in the sky?

Interior World of Music

I expect a lot out of the music I listen to. I want emotional honesty balanced by a smart or funny or poetic (or all three) sensibility; I want a commitment to excellence (in whatever particular way an album is trying to be excellent), and I want there to be something I can fall for in the voice of whoever’s singing - I want their voice to be as unique as a fingerprint.

There are many songs I know that have achieved all my requirements for greatness, but fewer entire albums. The albums that have done it are those I’ve had pretty intense relationships with (listening binges, total memorization, something new every time I listen, etc.) It’s hard to describe without falling into melodrama, but these are the albums that bring up the big poetic emotions: elation, grief, reverence, acute awareness of love and beauty, etc., etc. You know the ones. That a bunch of people playing instruments and singing stuff they’ve written and doing it unbelievably well can produce this kind of a reaction in even one person is just more evidence of the magical and mystical power and gift that is music.

Anyway, I’ve wanted to think about the albums that are a big part of my little interior universe for a long time, and I finally got a chance to do it. Here is my constellation of albums in no particular order. It didn’t really seem like enough to just write the list, so I’ve included a line or two of lyrics to give a sense of why I think they’re so special.


Car Wheels on a Gravel Road/Lucinda Williams
“Give me some love to fill me up/Give me some time give me some stuff/Give me a sign/Give me some kind of reason…” (I Lost It)

Whereabouts/Ron Sexsmith
“And the more I see/the more I feel/the more I need/to know for sure what is real…” (Every Passing Day)

Wrecking Ball/Emmylou Harris
“I remember your leather boots, pointing up into the sky…” (Blackhawk - written by Daniel Lanois)

Summerteeth/Wilco
“You know it's all beginning/to feel like pretending/No love's as random/as my love/I can't stand it/I can't stand it…” (Can’t Stand It)

Achtung Baby/U2
“I disappeared in you/You disappeared from me/I gave you everything you ever wanted/It wasn't what you wanted…” (So Cruel)

Is This Desire?/P.J. Harvey
“There was trouble/taking place…” (The Garden)

Scar/Joe Henry
“As if I don’t remember/How we passed the time/As if I don’t remember how/your face fell into mine/Oh, you’re the meanest flower…” (Mean Flower)

Satellite Rides/Old 97s
“Rollerskate skinny and the terrible twos, how can you have everything and nothing to lose?” (Roller Skate Skinny)

Man Under the Influence/Alejandro Escovedo
“She plays castanets/she works without a net/I like her better when she walks away…” (Castanets)

Bob Dylan Live 1975 - The Rolling Thunder Revue
“I was thinkin' about turquoise, I was thinkin' about gold/I was thinkin' about diamonds and the world's biggest necklace/As we rode through the canyons, through the devilish cold/I was thinkin' about Isis, how she thought I was so reckless…” (Isis)

Love & Theft/Bob Dylan
“Walking through the leaves/falling from the trees/Feeling like a stranger nobody sees/So many things that we never will undo/I know you're sorry, I'm sorry too…” (Mississippi)

Time Out of Mind/Bob Dylan
“Well the winds in Chicago have torn me to shreds/Reality has always had too many heads/Some things last longer than you think they will/Some kind of things you can never kill…” (Cold Irons Bound)

Look Into the Eyeball/David Byrne
“He's drunk and he's insistent/Shy but he's persistent/Boisterous and jumpy/Disorganized and funky/Every day he wonders/what the hell she sees in him…” (Great Intoxication)

Graceland/Paul Simon
“And I see losing love/is like a window in your heart/Everybody sees you're blown apart/everybody sees the wind blow…” (Graceland)

And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out/Yo La Tengo
“Maybe I'm out of my mind, maybe I'm blocking out the truth/But it seems like just a little thing/like you don't want to listen/and I can't shut up…” (The Crying of Lot G )

Carbon Glacier/Laura Veirs
“Watch/I can flash across the sky/a lightning bolt from up on high/and I can crash into myself…” (Icebound Stream)

Mule Variations/Tom Waits
“Well the moon is broken/and the sky is cracked/come on up to the house/the only thing that you can see/is all that you lack/come on up to the house…” (Come On Up to the House)

Wildflowers/Tom Petty
“Broken skyline/which way to love land/Which way to something better/Which way to forgiveness/Which way do I go…” (Time to Move On)

Befriended/Innocence Mission
“Nobody knows, darling/nobody knows how they are loved…” (When Mac Was Swimming)

Up/R.E.M.
“I cried the other night/I can't even say why/Fluorescent flat caffeine lights/it’s furious balancing…” (Daysleeper)

Gone Just Like a Train/Bill Frisell
Instrumental, but Bill does speak to you with his guitar. (The album cover didn’t make it into the mosaic - this is number 21, and you can’t make 7 rows. Sorry about that.)

Crafty Synergy Interview

There's a quote by Kenneth Lonergan (I'm trying to find it) to the effect of: at some point in time in life you realize that there are people at every level of power who feel like they have no idea what they're doing. The fact that I'm a jewelry designer despite having zero formal training in doing so has made me feel like an imposterer at times. It's resources like Patricia Zapata's Crafty Synergy, which features women running creative businesses, that make me realize that most people are just sort of making things up as they go along - and making beautiful things as they go. I was pretty blown away to be asked to participate. You can read my little interview here.

Drudgery Is Almost Always Invisible

Jewelry By Jessica Production, originally uploaded by Poundstone.

There is a certain amount of drudgery in every job. Even in jobs that seem terribly glamorous. Artists who create amazing work still have to spend time cleaning their equipment, trying to get people to buy the work they’ve made, entering their sales into a spreadsheet, ordering supplies, etc. Writers must edit and re-edit themselves, then submit their work to multiple edits by others, some of which they probably don’t agree with. Running your own “cute little boutique,” means dealing with many vendors - some nice, some nasty - worrying about profit margins, cleaning the shop each night, and re-stocking shelves. Etc. etc. etc.

Recognizing the entire cluster of tasks required to succeed at an endeavor is, for me anyway, the first realistic step toward actually deciding whether or not that particular endeavor is for you. As a whole, the best case scenario is that the enjoyment you get out of it more often than not overshadows the stuff you must do to make it work.

For me, more often than not, the excitement of coming up with new designs and color combinations for jewelry that people actually like to wear does overshadow the drudgery that comes along with cutting all of the plastic pieces, drawing on them, painting them, varnishing them, scraping paint off their edges, affixing their findings and cords, making sure each clasp is sound, trimming out their tags, blah, blah, blah.

And hey, at least I can do all of that while watching old episodes of Northern Exposure on DVD.

To reiterate this post's title, while drudgery is almost always invisible, it can sometimes be beautiful (see above picture).

Why I Love The Internet

Sometimes Music..., originally uploaded by Poundstone.

From: Stephen Lamb
To: jpoundstone
Date: Apr 6, 2007 6:21 PM
Subject: Jeffrey Overstreet / Bill Frisell

Jessica,

I found your website after reading Jeffrey Overstreet's book where he
quotes you about music healing "a million little broken things you didn't even know needed attention." I wanted to tell you that I love that quote and agree with it 100%.

I work in the music industry in Nashville, and this week I got to do some work for a concert Bill Frisell played with the Nashville Chamber Orchestra's String Quartet. After the concert last night, I told him about your quote, and he loved it. He said he wanted to see the quote and drawing, so I just sent him the link to it on Flickr.

Here's my blog post where I wrote about it after reading that chapter in Jeffrey's book: http://www.jslweb.com/blog/?p=112.

Thanks,
Stephen Lamb
www.jslweb.com

“Breathing rarified air, special and pure, like on Mount Everest.”

Clouds 4, originally uploaded by Poundstone.

I read an interview with Lucinda Williams a few years ago and remember her saying that oftentimes, the take of a song that ends up making it onto an album is the take she does when she’s dog tired; the last take.

About a year ago, my friend Craig Laurie (who has just put out a new album) said he had experienced the same thing during his recording process.

A few nights ago, I watched Au Hasard Balthazar, and afterwards a documentary that featured the director of the film, Robert Bresson, saying he sometimes had the non-actors he cast rehearse their lines up to fifty times before he shot a scene.

And this afternoon on NPR’s “This I Believe,” dancer and choreographer Judith Jamison said:

“Once, I had a dancer who was a beautiful dancer with a gorgeous body. But I couldn't get him to express himself. He had to go further. He had to tell me his journey, his emotional center, but he wouldn't. One time we were in rehearsal. He had a five-minute solo. He did it once. He was breathing hard. I said, ‘Do it again.’ The second time he was so exhausted he had no choice: He had to go deeper. He was honest. He arrived. It was exquisite.”

I don’t really know what to make of this idea, which seems to have been following me around for several years. It's counter-intuitive that work produced in some state of fatigue or exhaustion (as opposed to zeal or frenzy) would turn out to be the most excellent work produced, but apparently it happens. And, going by the products in the examples above, work produced in a depleted state of body may have a more intense spiritual resonance than would be possible otherwise. Or, to borrow the phrase Judith Jamison used to describe a rehearsal studio space, the work could make us feel we are “breathing rarified air, special and pure, like on Mount Everest.”

You Are My Little Bird & Other Children's Music Gems

Let me start off by saying that "children's music" no longer means what it once did (apparently): an endless, insanity-inducing loop of "The Wheels on the Bus" and "I Love You, You Love Me." In fact, I find myself listening to the "children's music" we have for Sophie even when she's not around.

Most recently, I got my hands on Elizabeth Mitchell's "You Are My Little Bird," which I'd seen recommended all over the place. Her web site has clips of a few songs from this album and others. Just about all of the songs made me cry on account of their magic and sweetness. They're made by Elizabeth, her husband and their daughter, Storey. I purchased "Bird" (favorite songs: "Little Bird, Little Bird" and Mitchell's version of the Velvet Underground's "What Goes On,") and another children's album Mitchell made, "You Are My Sunshine" (favorite song:"So Glad I'm Here").

(By the way, the magical cover art for "You Are My Little Bird" was created by Ida Pearle. Strangely enough, "Ida" is also the name of Elizabeth Mitchell's regular band. Must've been fate.)

Other favorite "children's" albums at our house include They Might Be Giants' "No!," and Dan Zane's "Family Dance." We're also currently working our way (via the library) through the kids' albums put out by Smithsonian Folkways, including gems from Ella Jenkins, Woody Guthrie and Elizabeth Cotten.

Inuit Art - Where has this been all my life?

I've been meaning to find out more about Inuit art for years. Re-inspired by a photo of a print from a flickr contact, today was the day to do some looking around. And I am bowled over by the work I saw. Simple, yet full of personality and wit, it's exactly my favorite sort of thing. The lithograph pictured above is titled "Spring Morning" by Pitaloosie Saila - you can learn more about it and/or buy it here.

"I love the idea of taking everyday images, and giving them a graphic sophistication."

The title is a quote from Juan Gatti, who has designed titles for Pedro Almodóvar's films for the past 20 years or so. I just saw Almodóvar's "Volver" last night. Wow on so many, many fronts.I'm still processing the film, but the lush visual feast of it was enough to think about for many weeks to come. I was especially astounded by the Gatti's graphics during the end credits, and went to find more information and images. I came across an article "Graphic images to seduce the filmgoer" by Alice Rawsthorn from the International Herald Tribune, and learned about Pedro Almdovar's longtime collaboration with Juan Gatti. Exerpts are below; see the whole article here.

"For Volver's titles, or end credits, [Gatti] created an animation of the flowers, leaves and spots on the women's aprons and dresses. 'Pedro is very clever at building his characters with details like that,' Gatti says. 'And I love the idea of taking everyday images, and giving them a graphic sophistication.'"

"Gatti's collaboration with Almodóvar has lasted for more than 20 years, since the director was making short films in Madrid. Together they have produced some of the most memorable graphic images in contemporary cinema. 'A good title sequence should be seductive," observes Gatti. "It should have a hypnotic quality that gets the audience into the mood of the movie.'"

"Few designers and directors have enjoyed as productive a relationship as Gatti and Almodóvar. They met at a party in the early 1980s shortly after Gatti, who was born in Buenos Aires in 1950, had moved to Madrid. Both belonged to La Movida, the group of artists, designers and writers who were then defining the cultural identity of the newly democratic Spain."

"For each film, Gatti first reads the script, then he and Almodóvar identify reference points for the graphics, such as books, works of art and different characters. 'One of the reasons why we work so well together is because we have a similar frame of reference,' Gatti says. They then discuss possible styles and techniques, but do not develop them until Gatti has seen the first cut of the movie. He sketches his ideas as a storyboard, and refines them in dialogue with Almodóvar."

"In the titles of 'Bad Education' of 2004, he drew on his love of street art by collaging trashy images with religious ones to resemble fliers pasted on a street hoarding. 'I love seeing fragments of old posters peeping out from behind new ones,' he says."

My New Online Image Scrapbook

I've started an online image scrapbook over at Wists, and am having a lot of fun with it. My paranoid packrat side dictates that I also print everything out just in case a link gets broken or an image goes away. But at least now it will be easier to share some beautiful things I find around the web with other people, rather than hoarding them in a three ring binder in my office. My latest picks will be shown on the sidebar on the right, or you can visit my page on Wists here.

Hearing Richard Ford Read

Night Driving 19
Originally uploaded by Poundstone.

Every time I hear Richard Ford read it’s a memorable and enriching experience. His last reading at Powell’s downtown was no exception. Here are some of his words and thoughts. Oh, and his wardrobe is always exciting too. Last time he was wearing crazy socks. This time, the collar of a royal purple shirt peeked out over the round neck of his Kelly green cotton sweater.

“At 62 I thought I was going to get all the way to death without glasses.”

Start of a thought on the presidential election of 2000, the time period in which his new book Lay of the Land is set: “In 2000, which eventuated into the shitmess we have now…”

About the novel as a concept: “In its plodding, persistent way, it can make magic.”

On why to read: “[Through literature] we renew our sensuous and emotional life, and learn a new awareness”

How he keeps writing: “There’s a ruthlessness. No, I’m going to do this, and not do this.”

Advice for writers: “Take it seriously. Be lucky. Tell yourself, ‘I’m doing what Chekov did. I’m doing what Flaubert did.’ Write about the most important thing you know.”

Most memorable and helpful criticism, from Walter Clemens, book critic for Newsweek: “You have a great sense of humor. This book partakes of none of it.” The lesson he took from it, and passed along to other writers: “Invent books that draw more on your character.”

Knowing his writing methodology could be useful for others, so they know “how one person did one thing.”

His methodology: Spend a year collecting material; put everything in a notebook (usually around 250-300 pages typed). The notebook is divided into sections for characters, places, etc. For his new book, there was a section on Frank, Ann, New Jersey, real estate, etc. Once all the pages are organized, read through the notebook and try to find the book. Some passes are all about finding the theme. He may go back to the notebook two or three times a day and re-read every word.

Essentializing

Breakfast Table
Originally uploaded by Poundstone.

A link to this via this brought me to this: Crown Point Press founder Kathan Brown talking about how artist Wayne Thiebaud talks about his work as a process of:

"essentializing....as a sauce reduced in cooking"

Now, normally I don't like fake words, but this one seems interesting and useful . By focusing our attention on *anything* we can "essentialize" it. We can make it urgent, we can call it *important*. And to me, there are so many wonderful reasons for something to be important: if it's beautiful, if it says something about our lives, if it conjures or somehow holds a memory...

I've been thinking a lot lately about the pictures I take. It may seem weird to say this, but I like them so much. I feel them. And pictures like the one up there, of a simple breakfast table, evoke so much emotion to me - these dishes, this sun, that shadow the butter makes - these elements all feel like words in a poem. They're specific and evocative. I don't know if the photos feel that way to people other than me. Although, while I'd love other people to love them, that's not my primary concern.

At the show (mentioned in the last post) at the Museum of Photographic Arts in San Diego, some of the first photographs taken with 35mm cameras were on display. And the writers of the text surrounding the display were making the point that this new kind of highly portable camera had made photographers free to capture all kinds of scenes - not just formal portraits. Candid shots became a possibility, and people began to look more like real people in their real lives - moving living and breathing people rather than paper dolls.

For me, the digital camera (in part because of its format, and in part because I don't have to think at all about paying for processing) has given me the freedom to start *seeing* new things, chronicling beauty anywhere and everywhere I spot it. And by seeing more, and looking more, I've found beauty in more places than ever before - and in places I never would have otherwise looked. Like the breakfast table.

From Love

Skyshow 2
Originally uploaded by Poundstone.

On our recent vacation, I found myself saying to Kortney: "I really believe that two people standing next to each other with cameras will take two totally different pictures if one loves what they're looking at and the other doesn't." Or something close to that. It sounds crazy. But I'm more and more convinced that it's true, and not just with photos, but with any sort of expression, creative or otherwise. It's hard and scary to put your heart into everything you do, but if you don't, why do it at all?

By the way, I made this observation after visiting the *excellent* exhibit at the Museum of Photographic Arts in San Diego. The link is here: http://www.mopa.org/pages/exhipages/currenex01.asp

My Photography Lessons Learned

Contemplative Sophie
Originally uploaded by Poundstone.

I believe I've said this before here: I used to suck at taking photographs. The viewfinder on my digital camera changed my life. All of a sudden, what I saw was what I got, and photography became more like composing a little piece of artwork, which I'm good at, instead of a frustrating technical experience.

But the other things that have transformed my pictures into something much better than they had been: Three simple rules.

1) Turn off the flash. Use daylight and lamps to your advantage. If you're in lower light, overexpose the photo a bit. (That is, turn up the exposure a few notches. Consult your camera's manual.) You can also use the photo editing software to lighten up a picture if it's too dark. In my experience, these options are always better than flash pictures. Always.

2) Take one, if not two steps closer to your subject. Don't be afraid to cut off the top and bottom of your subject. Closer is almost always more interesting.

3) Take a bunch of photos. With digital cameras, there's no downside to taking a whole mess of pictures. You just delete the rejects later. Presto! You're much more likely to get the shot you love if you're willing to take a bunch to begin with.

The only caveat with this rule is, as Frank Horvat says, "Photography is the art of not pushing the button." In other words, wait for the RIGHT shots. Eventually you'll be able to feel when the right shot is in your viewfinder. And it's so satisfying to catch it.

There. It's off my chest. Hope these little rules help somebody out there as much as they helped me.

Frank Horvat, photographer. I can't remember how I first found him, but his whole approach, his subjects, and particularly his series "1999, A Daily Report" (it's on the Web site) and his book "Trees" (check your library) seem exactly right somehow. www.horvatland.com.