Oncatography: Shadow and Light

We Had The Showers

It's In His Nature...To Be Patient and Careful

Toad on a Log, McKeldin Area of Patapsco Valley State Park, Maryland, May 2016

A scorpion and a frog meet on the bank of a stream and the scorpion asks the frog to carry him across on its back. The frog asks, “How do I know you won’t sting me?”  The scorpion says, “Because if I do, I will die too.”

The frog is satisfied, and they set out.  But in midstream, the scorpion stings the frog. The frog feels the onset of paralysis and starts to sink, knowing they both will drown, but has just enough time to gasp “Why?”

Replies the scorpion: “It’s in my nature…”

Fortunately there are no scorpions in the wild in the area where this image was taken. Woods and a rushing river, complete with small rapids, were some few feet away from this patient little creature and from my daughter and I. We were engaged in an afternoon walkabout in the Patapsco Valley. The toad was perched on a log and amazingly still given the commotion of hikers and picnickers in the area.

I do not often see frogs and toads without that Parable of the Scorpion and the Frog passing through my head. It is inseparable from my psyche. Perhaps it is...in my nature.

The toad offered no counsel. Even as I hovered about clicking away with my camera, it held still, silent, seemingly unperturbed. Perhaps that calmness is in its nature; and I must confess, I wish it were in mine.

End of an Era: Farewell to Crick

It nears two weeks since my favorite camera shop, Crick, in Kansas City, Missouri had to close its doors for good. Few things I have experienced in all my photographic endeavors over the years have affected me quite like this closing. It seems unfair that I had the privilege of working with them only four plus years, having made the connection upon moving out to Kansas back in 2012. I recognize that change is the only constant, but sometimes change such as this comes across as unnecessary and mean-spirited. I was just getting my legs under myself as a film photographer, and now a major part of the associated support system is gone.

At its root, this is a story about connection and the loss thereof. I do not make connections easily or often. This state of affairs exist at the intersection of introversion, reflexive mistrust of people, and ingrained fear of embarrassment. These traits are not a badge of honor but rather a constant source of anxiety and doubt. Life would proceed much smoother if they could be overcome. That conquering of myself has been a decades long self-improvement project, open ended, and ongoing. As part of that work, it is photography in part that has enabled me to overcome those drawbacks of character to better engage with the world.

Photography has had a grip on my imagination ever since I understood just what it meant to "take pictures". That grip waxed and waned over the years but never truly left me alone. In architecture, in life, the camera and its output served as a touchstone with which to stop time and get a grip on myself. I have said before that the camera for me has become a "filter and shield" by which I can interpret the outside world while keeping it at bay so it does not overwhelm me. It is no stretch to say that peering through the viewfinder provides a centering of the self that cannot be found in most other entertainments of the mind.

Filter and shield the camera may be but it also serves as a connection point. A kingpin in the train of actions and objects that all photography involves. Photography allows for me to pursue a vision of the world in my own way. It does not ultimately allow for a total disconnect because there are things I cannot accomplish on my own in the art of taking pictures. No matter how much I wish it were otherwise there is far more for me to learn about the art and science of photography than I already know. This is where the camera serves as a link to those from whom I can learn.

Arriving in Kansas years ago I had given up the luxury of the local links I had formed in my time back in Maryland. Bags of gear accompanied my ambitions. What I needed was a point of connection in my new home to restart the process of discovery on film and image. Fortune was kind in that Crick Camera Shop turned out to be close to my new home and had a great reputation for service and products. I gave them a go and never looked back. Not only did I get good advice and good service, I formed a friendship with the staff. For someone who is as unsure of his professional self as I am, this arrangement was truly welcome. It is a wonderful thing to have help in what you are doing from people interested in what you are doing even if you yourself are not convinced you know what you are doing!

When Crick announced their closing I felt shock and sadness. As I stated earlier, I do not connect easily. The loss of a connection such as this meant I will have to start over in some capacity. Other sources will have to be found for the hardware and consumables incurred by photography. In this day and age of the Internet of Stuff that probably will not be as big a deal as I imagined. The truly difficult and more important thing, is the reestablishment of human relationships that I came to understand truly benefited my eye and skill as a photographer. Today I stopped by the store to pick up a big roll of background paper, part of the odds and ends of inventory they are seeking to offload as they shut down for good. It was sad to stand in the store space stripped of most everything but fixtures and memories. It is the end of an era, one that will hold a good place in my photographer's heart.

Persistence of My Memory

It's still here, this moody bastard called ambition. its voice is a low murmur these days much to my chagrin. A low murmur that I rarely heed except in bursts. The cameras are still here, with me, sitting quiet and patient while I try to decide what to do. All but the digital camera. It is a bread and butter machine right now. A true workhorse that enables me to keep the debt hounds at bay, my filial obligations met, and some food in my belly. This is a good thing, to pay bills and eat.

For my film cameras it is a different, somewhat melancholy story. The soul feeds on things other than the corporeal materials of life. This I know after so long a period of fallowness for my interior life. I feel like winter never left it, after my last sojourn here over a year ago. Oh, pictures have been taken, don't get me wrong. Film purchased and labor expended to expose them to what I see through that which lies between me and the world. What is odd is that I have felt little urge to share any of them. The desire for engagement has receded, retreated before what...I don't know. 

Photographer's block seems just as real to me as writer's block. The results are doubled here, on a blog writing about the intersection of me and my cameras. I have had much to say, and little energy to say when faced by the twin logjams of excess input and excess analysis. The story is on old one: so much to say, no idea where to start. Consequently, nothing gets said. I believe it is my perceived sense of self-weakness in the face of external events so much larger than myself that I lose the will to express what I feel, what I see, what I think. I have believed for a long time that my spirit animal is a jaguar, but for a year or more now it seems more like an undernourished kitten. I swat feebly at the hands reaching for me, I mewl into the wind, power swallowed by fatigue.

Still, there are sparks and embers. My fire may be banked but it has not gone out. I see them and feel them in the flotsam and jetsam that blankets my work area. Notes, scraps of paper with cryptic scribbles, invoices, reminders, and even photos. Photos of which I am not even the begetter, but nonetheless provide some kindling. Fading shards of memory that bind me to this place in history while reminding me that the fire shall not die, even if it can't be spied from afar. I bask in their warmth.

"Airman Shea" - My father (far left) in his Air Force days, c. 1960. 

A Funny Thing Happened On the Way to the Show...

Okay, now that I have finally accomplished something, and have taken the time to take some time for another update on this here desert that is my photo blog, let me fill you in.

Did I mention that I have the good fortune to be in an exhibition in December? Yeah, I lucked into it, through the good graces of a new friend, and I am pretty excited about it. I have eight pieces that were accepted, and I just spent a good chunk of this fine Sunday matting and framing the prints. Now my back hurts, and I feel like I passed a kidney stone...

...but I am pleased. Very pleased. Aside from a near-crippling spate of self-doubt, the day went well. The prints look great in the frames, they are signed and dated, and ready to hang.

As am I. *heehee*

I jest, but figuratively I do feel like I am about to hang. Maybe it is a relatively small step forward, but never have I been so far out there regarding my artistic life. I feel exposed, but I feel ready.

A journey of a thosuand miles, dear readers, and I have taken the first single step. Wish me luck.

May 28th, 2012: Heartfelt Thanks

In gratitude for their service...Thank you!

Gratitude Project 01: Beauty

Be thankful for beauty.

Patapsco River stroll, October 13, 2011