So a few days ago I was in Eagle Mountain, Utah, visiting my goddaughter and her parents. The morning I was to leave I was at a bit of a loss as to where to go. See, here's the back-story. A bit more than a week ago, a lot of things happened at once. The money I was waiting on hit my bank account, I got a job offer in Bozeman that I wasn't expecting, and I made some choices about my life. I decided to take the job, to start a bit of a new path for myself in Bozeman. This gave me two last weeks of freedom before returning to the 9-to-5 life. I spent some time with my sister and her family in Colorado while I had the freedom to do so, likewise in Utah, but then I had a week of freedom left and looking at the weather forecasts and mileage, I could see no good plan for how to spend my last week. I wanted to drive back to the coast, spend some time contemplating the ocean and the sky, but looking at the forecast decided me against a week of rainy, hiding-in-my-car contemplations. Everywhere I wanted to go was either raining or snowing all week. So I decided to leave it to chance.
Monday morning, in Utah, I took a shower, got dressed, and before putting on my compass shaped necklace, I shook it like a die and dropped it on the dresser figuring I'd head which ever way pointed away from me. South. I said my goodbyes, packed my car, and headed south. I was rewarded with a gorgeous view of Utah Lake following me south for the next half hour. A while later I came to a T in the road. I flipped a coin. West, it said. West, I went. I continued thus, my coin leading me through back country dirt roads where I saw all of two cars for the next six hours. It reminded me of the serenity I find in the ocean or flying, the sense of being smaller than the world around me. As it was getting dark, I found a highway, and headed to the the next decent size town to find a hotel parking lot to car-camp in; Ely, Nevada.
The next morning I continued this trend, using my necklace when I had more than 2 directions to chose from, the coin for the rest. I let chance decide at every fork or junction, and by early evening I was in northern Idaho on highway 93 heading north. About this time, I realized that if my coin didn't lead me otherwise, I would be in Hamilton by nightfall which is when I usually stop for the night anyways. By the fates, my sister lives in Hamilton with her three gorgeous children (and a sweet husband). However, I continued to let the fates decide. Four more coin flips later, I was in Hamilton. The nerd in me has to point out that the probability of those four coin flips leading me here is a measly 6.125%.
Long story short, I'm spending the next few days in the Missoula area, visiting family and hopefully doing some more portrait sessions. Then back to Bozeman, back to work, though I plan to continue with the portrait jobs and photography in general. I've got lots of ideas still running around in my head demanding attention. My aimless wandering may have been cut short for now, but I think I got what I needed out of it. And I find myself actually looking forward a bit to becoming semi-stationary again. I say semi-stationary because I fully intend to wander away as often as possible flipping a coin to find my way.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Images in my mind
Eagle Mountain, Utah
I've never been much of an artist. I can draw well enough if I'm willing to spend the time, but only if I have something to look at. Yet I've always had these images in my head with no satisfying way to get them out. For a while I played with magazine cut outs, making collages of images I found interesting, juxtapositions that said something to me, even if they seemed nonsensical. But still, this wasn't quite right. I wasn't putting the images in my head into solid form, I was simply arranging the images in my hands in a way that was pleasing and meaningful to me. I've hoped for a while now that photography could be that outlet for me, that method of making real the unobtainable visions that float through my mind.
While trying to fall asleep about a week ago, I started seeing these images more vividly than usual with more emotion and meaning to each composition than I've ever felt before. I was inspired. I had a plan. A week later, I've been thwarted by the weather at every turn (snowstorms make for poor portraits...) and the one attempt I've made at putting these images into digital form was less than satisfying. Fear not, though. I do not give up so easily. Perhaps my methods will have to change, and my technique will have to improve, but I will manifest these images one way or another. In the meantime, I have but to practice and learn. I've got a few techniques I want to experiment with as soon as I'm able.
By the way, my updated website has been loaded. There is a minor problem of aesthetics with the thumbnails in some galleries, but I'm working on that. Overall, however, I'm pleased with the modifications. The portraits section contains a gallery that I will continue to expand as I increase my portfolio. Also, I'm scheduled to display some of my art prints in the Co-op (upstairs cafe/art gallery) in May.
I've never been much of an artist. I can draw well enough if I'm willing to spend the time, but only if I have something to look at. Yet I've always had these images in my head with no satisfying way to get them out. For a while I played with magazine cut outs, making collages of images I found interesting, juxtapositions that said something to me, even if they seemed nonsensical. But still, this wasn't quite right. I wasn't putting the images in my head into solid form, I was simply arranging the images in my hands in a way that was pleasing and meaningful to me. I've hoped for a while now that photography could be that outlet for me, that method of making real the unobtainable visions that float through my mind.
While trying to fall asleep about a week ago, I started seeing these images more vividly than usual with more emotion and meaning to each composition than I've ever felt before. I was inspired. I had a plan. A week later, I've been thwarted by the weather at every turn (snowstorms make for poor portraits...) and the one attempt I've made at putting these images into digital form was less than satisfying. Fear not, though. I do not give up so easily. Perhaps my methods will have to change, and my technique will have to improve, but I will manifest these images one way or another. In the meantime, I have but to practice and learn. I've got a few techniques I want to experiment with as soon as I'm able.
By the way, my updated website has been loaded. There is a minor problem of aesthetics with the thumbnails in some galleries, but I'm working on that. Overall, however, I'm pleased with the modifications. The portraits section contains a gallery that I will continue to expand as I increase my portfolio. Also, I'm scheduled to display some of my art prints in the Co-op (upstairs cafe/art gallery) in May.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Chasing passions and buying shoes
Aberdeen, WA
I love the rain. I hope I will always love the rain. I have long since accounted my near spiritual emotion towards rain to having grown up in the plains of Montana when rain was scarce to the point of being nearly non-existent. I've always especially loved that rain that drenches you, the road, and leaves puddles to jump in. Today, however, I'd trade my left shoe (I have a few extra pairs) for a dry, sunny day tomorrow. See the problem with rain is that it makes it difficult to take pictures. My camera doesn't like the idea of getting soaked, even if I don't mind for myself. I drove down the coast along the Olympic Peninsula today, enjoying the view but unable to take many pictures.
I've rambled before about how I've been chasing my passions. Until I was 24 years old, I always had a goal, a plan. It changed, but it was always there, along some distant path. Once I left on my trip abroad, I had no plan. I had accomplished my current goal. And since then, I've been searching, groping in the dark, for an inkling of an idea as to where I am going. I keep trying to remind myself that the biggest changes in my life have come from the simplest decisions (going shoe shopping for example). The frustration often builds, however.
I love the rain. I hope I will always love the rain. I have long since accounted my near spiritual emotion towards rain to having grown up in the plains of Montana when rain was scarce to the point of being nearly non-existent. I've always especially loved that rain that drenches you, the road, and leaves puddles to jump in. Today, however, I'd trade my left shoe (I have a few extra pairs) for a dry, sunny day tomorrow. See the problem with rain is that it makes it difficult to take pictures. My camera doesn't like the idea of getting soaked, even if I don't mind for myself. I drove down the coast along the Olympic Peninsula today, enjoying the view but unable to take many pictures.
I've rambled before about how I've been chasing my passions. Until I was 24 years old, I always had a goal, a plan. It changed, but it was always there, along some distant path. Once I left on my trip abroad, I had no plan. I had accomplished my current goal. And since then, I've been searching, groping in the dark, for an inkling of an idea as to where I am going. I keep trying to remind myself that the biggest changes in my life have come from the simplest decisions (going shoe shopping for example). The frustration often builds, however.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Of freedom and frustrations
Seattle, Wa
I left home the last week of January, off to wander and photograph and think and do. It had been exactly a year since I returned from Syria. Wanderlust is a powerful thing. It can make you walk away from someplace so perfect, so comfortable, so easy, in search of adventures, daydreams, and unknowable futures. Wrapped up in the wanderlust, it's easy to forget the loneliness and frustrations that go along with those daydreams and adventures. You learn a lot about yourself in those moments, especially the first ones; walking out the door, the first night away, the first time you pick a direction and start driving.
I'm still learning, still driving, and the moments of frustration are well balanced by the peacefulness of the open road, a good cup of coffee (I am in Seattle after all) and the knowledge that I have no idea where I'll be a week from now. I'm heading south tomorrow, along the coast. I figure I'll drive to Port Townsend, sleep in my car in a hotel parking lot, and wake up minutes from the ocean. The ocean has always been enchanting to me. I crave the comfort of insignificance, of knowing there are things out there bigger than me and my problems, even bigger than the problems of the world and its peoples.
In the last couple weeks I've done something like twelve photo gigs, mostly taking portraits of toddlers and families. I'm looking for jobs in Oregon now. I'll go where the work leads me for the most part. I'm in the process of revamping my website a bit, Sydian Photography, and when that's updated (very soon I hope) it will have a portrait gallery on it. In the meantime I've also been posting my favorite portrait shots on a picasa album which I'll link on the right asap. And now, back to my book.
I left home the last week of January, off to wander and photograph and think and do. It had been exactly a year since I returned from Syria. Wanderlust is a powerful thing. It can make you walk away from someplace so perfect, so comfortable, so easy, in search of adventures, daydreams, and unknowable futures. Wrapped up in the wanderlust, it's easy to forget the loneliness and frustrations that go along with those daydreams and adventures. You learn a lot about yourself in those moments, especially the first ones; walking out the door, the first night away, the first time you pick a direction and start driving.
I'm still learning, still driving, and the moments of frustration are well balanced by the peacefulness of the open road, a good cup of coffee (I am in Seattle after all) and the knowledge that I have no idea where I'll be a week from now. I'm heading south tomorrow, along the coast. I figure I'll drive to Port Townsend, sleep in my car in a hotel parking lot, and wake up minutes from the ocean. The ocean has always been enchanting to me. I crave the comfort of insignificance, of knowing there are things out there bigger than me and my problems, even bigger than the problems of the world and its peoples.
In the last couple weeks I've done something like twelve photo gigs, mostly taking portraits of toddlers and families. I'm looking for jobs in Oregon now. I'll go where the work leads me for the most part. I'm in the process of revamping my website a bit, Sydian Photography, and when that's updated (very soon I hope) it will have a portrait gallery on it. In the meantime I've also been posting my favorite portrait shots on a picasa album which I'll link on the right asap. And now, back to my book.
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