tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-115848952024-02-19T06:52:16.067-08:00The Dancing TrailA discussion of Photographic Art. Not just making a "good" picture but interpreting the world that is presented to you and mixing it with the internal universe that each of us carries within, and using that to create a different place that never existed before.fauxtaographerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877503844857360940noreply@blogger.comBlogger54125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11584895.post-35169332722654633592016-01-24T21:09:00.000-08:002016-01-24T21:15:38.634-08:00Romanian Festival in Naples.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6fRCXEg1n3X6quTlVry3VRsZadG6_kY5NBlSkuGy5u9zKlWyDmmBKJ-n0hyphenhyphen31Z_Rp8u9mSDHrY8N1ePc5Y7T9FRol50t1By2W_mFHvL-tG4rxO8RRkpm41_ukqdVw4VAm5fyr/s1600/Viorica2+SmS4580010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6fRCXEg1n3X6quTlVry3VRsZadG6_kY5NBlSkuGy5u9zKlWyDmmBKJ-n0hyphenhyphen31Z_Rp8u9mSDHrY8N1ePc5Y7T9FRol50t1By2W_mFHvL-tG4rxO8RRkpm41_ukqdVw4VAm5fyr/s320/Viorica2+SmS4580010.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Finally we feel we have reached a place in our incredibly complicated move from Hickory, NC, to Naples, Florida, that we can take an evening to attend one of the many events taking place in Naples. We chose a visit to Études de Ballet and take in the annual Romanian Festival held there. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihYKanWipskJkPIbybCJab7-1AGsSNzV5-gmAo5mVG10BdHc4Dah7jrOhEe7uG5rzaUWUmHOy06dvgcXbn_jBIpXMBMxUw6hO9QOGFwK2QYOUVjrrWUZZM-x_bai9vNG684ucd/s1600/Viroica+SmS4580009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihYKanWipskJkPIbybCJab7-1AGsSNzV5-gmAo5mVG10BdHc4Dah7jrOhEe7uG5rzaUWUmHOy06dvgcXbn_jBIpXMBMxUw6hO9QOGFwK2QYOUVjrrWUZZM-x_bai9vNG684ucd/s320/Viroica+SmS4580009.jpg" width="320" /></a>First thing we saw when we arrived was an art exhibit by Viorica Ghetu-Vuono. Lovely work, with amazingly deep emotional details, particularly with respect to some of America's darkest involvement in matters of the soul, like slavery, the Orphan Trains, and the attack on Hawaii in 1941. I found the work to be probing, full of thought and emotion, yet tempered by the acknowledgment of historical unfoldment. I met her and talked with her and was very impressed with her work. She is from Moldova, in the eastern Czech Republic, and has studied art in Russia, Moldova and Ukraine. Currently, she is living and studying in Conneticut. More information on her work and photographs of her art can be found at www.vioricavuono.com<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWZJc-VmT0fu4PzgoRevvNl2QPOthpsJXd0oZ46jx8j43iKGmNPXWGXyrQjwQWzSgW6wkHMA-m7Z49TjXufBsXY39dTVrpSDyXpBCAX0le0RUp8GoPCyw1dcf0AN6s618QsqOH/s1600/Romanian+FestivalMG_7807.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWZJc-VmT0fu4PzgoRevvNl2QPOthpsJXd0oZ46jx8j43iKGmNPXWGXyrQjwQWzSgW6wkHMA-m7Z49TjXufBsXY39dTVrpSDyXpBCAX0le0RUp8GoPCyw1dcf0AN6s618QsqOH/s400/Romanian+FestivalMG_7807.jpg" width="400" /></a>Once inside the festival hall, we found wildness unfolding in the form of dancing, singing, shouting, stomping, swirling, all at a very LOUD level of musical noise. However, the people were obviously enjoying themselves and almost all of the announcements were made in some language other than English. The food was good, and we sat with another couple at at table in the far rear, away from the awesome sounds. During a lull in the music we found out that they were from Asheville, NC. So – our first excursion out to meet the people of Naples, after our trip from Hickory, NC, turned up two: One from Moldavia, and another from Asheville. An awesome beginning. Actually, kind of the way everything else has gone so far!<br />
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<br />fauxtaographerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877503844857360940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11584895.post-28407239204393690652015-12-15T10:10:00.001-08:002015-12-15T10:10:55.149-08:00Beyond Reality<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;">
<a href="http://thumbs.photo.net/photo/8361562-sm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="http://web.mac.com//fauxtaographer/" border="0" height="200" hspace="5" src="http://thumbs.photo.net/photo/8361562-sm.jpg" title="http://web.mac.com//fauxtaographer/" width="119" /></a> Be bold. Can photographs tell a real story? Can they match up with the other artistic mediums? Yes! Photography is the most powerful and dynamic form of art known to mankind. </div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>We have all known that the earth is part of the solar system for some time; we had seen artists’ renditions of that imagined sight for more than fifty years, but when we saw that first photograph of our earth floating in space, the earth changed, and we changed. The earth could never be the<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> same earth again. </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Artists, poets and writers introduced us to the pleasures and joys of war for countless generations, and we loved it. Then Mathew Brady brought us some bad news, and war has gone down hill ever since. </div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>We all know about how many children die of starvation every day, and we feel sorry for them. But when we see Kevin Carter’s incredible photo of the starving Sudanese child, covered with flies, collapsing to the ground, still crawling in the dirt, completely abandoned except for his last earthly companion: a huge vulture, the size of the child, walking behind him, watching, waiting. We have been told that one picture could take ten thousand words to explain; here’s one that would take ten million years to explain. And you don’t even have to look, all it takes is a quick glance, and you can’t ever be the same again as you were before you saw that. Yes, photography can be too powerful. </div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The Wizard, Ansel Adams, took us to another planet - the most beautiful place in the universe! “Where are we?” we asked him. He pushed his glasses up on his forehead, smiled, wiped his hands on his apron, and said: “Welcome home.”</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>You will encounter other artists out on the trail. When you set up your tripod, be kind, be quiet, and be sensitive. The painter, you may see out there is dabbing, looking for realism; the writer is searching for ten thousand words. You hold realism and ten thousand words in your hands, and you are not going to stop there. </div>
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Page 41 of the book "Methods and Procedures of Outdoor Photography" by John Womack. Available from author at johnhwomack@gmail.com $10 + postage. </div>
fauxtaographerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877503844857360940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11584895.post-38275615855049863672015-12-14T13:50:00.000-08:002015-12-14T13:50:22.465-08:00<div style="color: #141923; font-family: Helvetica; margin-bottom: 6px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Last summer, the old man, who owned these trees<br />
was sitting on his riding lawnmower.<br />
He watched as his trees were all cut away<br />
by a tree-removal company.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">I asked him what was wrong with his beautiful trees,<br />
were they ill, or sick, or beset with evil maggots <br />
perhaps, or something I had never heard of.<br />
He said it was even worse than that:</span></span></div>
<div style="color: #141923; font-family: Helvetica; margin-bottom: 6px;">
<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">“They make such a mess when their leaves fall off</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">
every year in the fall and I have to clean up that crap.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />Now it's the following spring, and the weeds and the grass and I gather</span></span></div>
<div style="color: #141923; font-family: Helvetica; margin-bottom: 6px;">
<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">to share our sad memories together. </span></div>
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fauxtaographerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877503844857360940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11584895.post-86677927990934345842009-11-13T16:42:00.001-08:002009-11-14T15:38:59.603-08:00Shepard Fairey and the Great Picture<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shepard_Fairey">Shepard Fairey</a> did a no-no. But it was an interesting no-no. First of all, in April, 2006, Senator Barack Obama was with George Clooney and Sam Brownback at the National Press Club meeting in Washington DC. They talked about Darfur and human rights. Several photographers made hundreds of photos of the contestants, none of which photos seemed remarkable at the time. <a href="http://manniegarcia.com/Files_Pix/About_Me.html">Mannie Garcia</a>, a freelance photojournalist was there to photograph the famous guy, Clooney. Some of his photographs did include Barack Obama. Garcia later said that <a href="http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=101184444">one photograph</a> which later became so important was one of 275 he shot that day. All of the photographs apparently went unnoticed and unheralded. <br /><br />The presentation was nothing, the photographs were nothing, the write-ups were nothing. But 18 months later, as the political campaigns began to develop we all watched the spectacle of a number of candidates trying to emerge from their pack. Of course, Obama did well, so well in fact that the nation was just getting ready to “notice” - officially - that he really “could not be elected” and so therefore should not be selected to run. The reason he couldn’t be elected was that he had just been "noticed" to be BLACK. <br /><br />That week commentators were beginning to comment about Obama’s blackness. How it was too bad because he was such a good candidate otherwise, BUT he was black - and that was a fact. Meanwhile, in October of 2007, Shepard Fairey agreed with an Obama aid, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yosi_Sergant">Yosi Sergant</a>, to provide a poster, and after running a Google Image Search found the Garcia image which later that same day Fairey turned into his stunning picture of Barack Obama. Fairey never approached Garcia about using his photograph even though it almost certainly was copyrighted. Whether it actually was copyrighted at that time, and whether by Garcia or the AP is still under discussion by a number of lawyers in several courts. Very possibly, Garcia would have given permission to use it had he been approached - but of course that is forever now in the land of conjecture. The picture Fairey constructed out of Garcia's photograph showed Obama not as a black man, but as a red-and-blue man, with enough white in the picture to show he was one who could unite the country, appealing to republicans, democrats, whites and blacks and even bring new voters to the polls. It had a stunning effect on the world and history. <br /><br />The New Yorker art critic, Peter Schjeldahl said the picture was “the most efficacious American political illustration since ‘Uncle Sam Wants You’”. In January 2009, the picture was acquired by the United States National Portrait Gallery and made part of its permanent collection. And it can be fairly claimed now to be an integral part of the story how the first black man became elected president of the United States. It was clearly one of the greatest pictures of all time.<br /><br />But the “no-no” had to do with the fact that Fairey made his picture out of one of the nondescript photographs made at that nondescript meeting way back in April of 2006. Garcia made the photograph which Fairey used, but Fairey made the great picture. Garcia had reviewed his photographs on the day of the original shoot and sent 16 them on to the Associated Press, one of which was the one Fairey later found on Google. The AP has now also positioned themselves in the case, claiming that they have a right to it too. But when the poster came out it was not recognized by anybody including Garcia who later was quoted "It never occurred to me it was my picture".<br /><br />So what is the story here? Probably it is a good representation of America. Nothing could be more American that this story. A photo made, a photo lost, a photo found. Who owns it? What would the photograph be worth without the picture? What will happen to Fairey? Well, he’s hired a lawyer, more Americana, and is already safely sealed in the history books for all time. The only question seeming to remain now is how much money will he have to pay for taking a useless photograph and making out of it one of the great pictures of all time? And it will remain a great picture because Obama will always be the first black president of the United States, and Fairey's picture will always be part of that story.fauxtaographerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877503844857360940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11584895.post-17308004846144293612009-08-27T10:34:00.000-07:002012-09-13T09:38:50.488-07:00Morning Cool<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGPu38y2YklidVoZ0xNQAVTQypnEten3Prk17J8csrxaIx6cZBPnuxLoDPghJ8IlC88W1ljk4ukyRKUhaRrE0gtgfpGabpvRejUibFmDGc8fqXZxy9zRNIfciEjA0Vw6DCuy5d/s1600/CirCloud_0984.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGPu38y2YklidVoZ0xNQAVTQypnEten3Prk17J8csrxaIx6cZBPnuxLoDPghJ8IlC88W1ljk4ukyRKUhaRrE0gtgfpGabpvRejUibFmDGc8fqXZxy9zRNIfciEjA0Vw6DCuy5d/s320/CirCloud_0984.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Walking through the early dew<br />
bare feet clad in Tevas,<br />
showering toes in night-wrung water<br />
still lying cool<br />
in morning shadows.<br />
Great blue sky arcing wide <br />
crossed like watercolors running <br />
long white cirrus feathers, streaking<br />
cross the sky as if morning might be stretching<br />
and inviting me to dance<br />
while we both still have our coolfauxtaographerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877503844857360940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11584895.post-1085093445406961422009-07-24T10:07:00.000-07:002009-08-27T10:44:18.764-07:00Silly Gal Lilly<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho7cCnjPUkdI-LVr22Sj9biSb6qEe86WLNx6Tv2HU7-JB4YXl21LddhuEDWFPxBz0-3-_G8Y9tv8jqGAU7v9vXyCCUrVicr4yWACuaTpxiE_xVc3WXhFeQ2UQC02pi_PVmNHJn/s1600-h/SillyGalLilly.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 146px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho7cCnjPUkdI-LVr22Sj9biSb6qEe86WLNx6Tv2HU7-JB4YXl21LddhuEDWFPxBz0-3-_G8Y9tv8jqGAU7v9vXyCCUrVicr4yWACuaTpxiE_xVc3WXhFeQ2UQC02pi_PVmNHJn/s200/SillyGalLilly.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362074972606763618" /></a><br />Silly Gal Lilly talks too much<br />She rattles along, <br />all day long, and<br />when she runs out of words, <br />she makes them up.<br />One day she talked so much<br />the world went deaf.<br />And she never has any <br />thing to say, <br />but you gotta admit - <br />she’s awfully pretty!fauxtaographerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877503844857360940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11584895.post-13993277379253146652009-06-22T20:19:00.000-07:002009-06-22T20:31:18.026-07:00Summer SolsticeOn Midsummer Day the Earth bows low before the Sun, sweeping in gracious curtsy before her Lord and Sovereign as they celebrate together their Summer Solstice. <br /><br />She proudly presents her sweet grasses, pure waters, great trees and precious flowers to her master in thanksgiving for protection during the winter just past, and for passage through a cold and windy spring. The Sun, clearly pleased, bestows benediction upon his bride and beckons her to rise and fulfill her destiny. Joyfully, the Earth turns in stately pirouette, as in a waltz, slowly lifting and slowly turning, rising and gracefully whirling and spinning into the days and nights of creation and celebration which lie ahead.<br /><br />For the ceremony, Earth has prepared a soft breeze filled with the song of birds, and spun together upon the air the familiar smells of warm earth and flowing water - those precious treasures forever denied her lord; thus presenting the Sun’s own Fire back to it, now transformed into Life. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw1QZxnPhc-rLrwSKv8Et1Lxs_2sP4iqfZHZoV2MCCxcv0gHItESPi_WnVduK0Uq5_Plz8qjm6jZq_76FdRBkGv47LU3fS6n6tDVsEkvJLF3VrA_A-9dU-0w9cxKhNzxW2eXEG/s1600-h/441Small.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 204px; height: 288px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw1QZxnPhc-rLrwSKv8Et1Lxs_2sP4iqfZHZoV2MCCxcv0gHItESPi_WnVduK0Uq5_Plz8qjm6jZq_76FdRBkGv47LU3fS6n6tDVsEkvJLF3VrA_A-9dU-0w9cxKhNzxW2eXEG/s320/441Small.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350359659629853826" /></a> In the warm blue afternoon sky, the Honey Moon, three-quarters full, sails high above the unexpected hoot of an owl.<br /> <br />Midsummer Evening slowly rises from under the flowers like a great sea, lifting and floating the petals and leaves on its soft darkness - this happy night will be rich in singing and dancing; it will be filled with fairies and devas, and the song of the mockingbird will charm the silver moonbeams. Ah, what magic lies right before our eyes! Will it be on TV? No? Oh, why not?fauxtaographerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877503844857360940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11584895.post-53725554794879917002009-04-27T21:20:00.001-07:002009-04-27T21:20:41.458-07:00Springtime in Hickory<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKPQUwwrQDkSZBUgSr-omucURFY1gLBfVnNncVyfXhj2VfBhoVLwePcXkj-x16RdCJkIWNTYR22RFaOgWuKN6CAT4flKKFogghiXM-LR5Lxpq20yBY_AqVEoIu24NLeCkhR-xyrA/s1600-h/SpringHKY7635Ty.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 258px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKPQUwwrQDkSZBUgSr-omucURFY1gLBfVnNncVyfXhj2VfBhoVLwePcXkj-x16RdCJkIWNTYR22RFaOgWuKN6CAT4flKKFogghiXM-LR5Lxpq20yBY_AqVEoIu24NLeCkhR-xyrA/s320/SpringHKY7635Ty.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327925314210766498" /></a><br />Hickory in the autumn is one of the great sights that everyone should see at least once. But the springtime show might even be better. The autumn is warm and cozy with reds, yellows, and cuddly sepia-cast tones weaving through the world. The springtime though is gaudy. It is even a little silly, with giggly yellows and whites all over the place, shivering in the too-chilly air.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl7OUAy1K8PDU1UkgtPWSpy3HIM2ar4ylBeu1Og40xjIctlfkS-giY4LQW6VhGFTvgKyAHNcOMJS2tNHepin5uKxM4RJ2vMcOd6qqQVwGbW0Pn2RQYRt_Ptag1eQXR6ghQM9Rs2A/s1600-h/GreenLeaves7640AKTy.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 166px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl7OUAy1K8PDU1UkgtPWSpy3HIM2ar4ylBeu1Og40xjIctlfkS-giY4LQW6VhGFTvgKyAHNcOMJS2tNHepin5uKxM4RJ2vMcOd6qqQVwGbW0Pn2RQYRt_Ptag1eQXR6ghQM9Rs2A/s200/GreenLeaves7640AKTy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327927711027906578" /></a>Lush green grasses and tulip leaves spring out of the rainwater to reach for the dark clouds not that far above, and great bustly winds race like runaway cattle down the streets veering unexpectedly across lawns and grabbing doors that were briefly opened and running away with them. "Hey!" Yell the owners of the doors as they run after them. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrZGN5le7wRGaSfBfKZQz2VK69Sdmovudy4YWQC27sKDa5JWvWgdwNp1eZYnAVnQb7sbemA2NxO318m-k4bPg3PgMqobE9m-pTNrshaW9sPNCS8esu-xxicKtv0FRQXopfNhxzmw/s1600-h/HKYLnFlr7637Ty.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 286px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrZGN5le7wRGaSfBfKZQz2VK69Sdmovudy4YWQC27sKDa5JWvWgdwNp1eZYnAVnQb7sbemA2NxO318m-k4bPg3PgMqobE9m-pTNrshaW9sPNCS8esu-xxicKtv0FRQXopfNhxzmw/s320/HKYLnFlr7637Ty.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327925316043719298" /></a>And tulips and daffodils and crocusus spring out and azaleas and phlox and bradfordville pears bust out. Wow - obviously no planning went into any of this - man, it's totally out of control! And the grass . . . ! Lookout! Here comes MORE grass!fauxtaographerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877503844857360940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11584895.post-28117230152262182082008-11-12T22:22:00.001-08:002008-11-13T06:45:01.113-08:00Hickory Autumn Colors<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8hb35AQDw5BNR0U_tJB4Y-pMUHHbwPjUnd_6k0bsxWUHkA3-t1SXBNyK3umiOv6L7jxjXoebZuXNekrbTnnP0oHTDbGVHs5ESSdKQCekqApuiRuHEBqAFBzUhvKEhzDj28DI6dw/s1600-h/IMG_5332TinyLRU.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8hb35AQDw5BNR0U_tJB4Y-pMUHHbwPjUnd_6k0bsxWUHkA3-t1SXBNyK3umiOv6L7jxjXoebZuXNekrbTnnP0oHTDbGVHs5ESSdKQCekqApuiRuHEBqAFBzUhvKEhzDj28DI6dw/s320/IMG_5332TinyLRU.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268017317800580386" /></a><br />Hickory brought color into our lives this year and in a big way. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidFRVoNh7YyE3J9EoL__xPu_3alvF7sxIvWk4mbUac-uewyDbwg5CLH8Pnk0vAHKEPfnpiuQ0rNsVbbbfmRHBzCldUxwfEVouOMjOgrn-pDSap0Detkte_Dq3wWywzP5FVrm_kHg/s1600-h/IMG_5350.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidFRVoNh7YyE3J9EoL__xPu_3alvF7sxIvWk4mbUac-uewyDbwg5CLH8Pnk0vAHKEPfnpiuQ0rNsVbbbfmRHBzCldUxwfEVouOMjOgrn-pDSap0Detkte_Dq3wWywzP5FVrm_kHg/s320/IMG_5350.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268013472449280466" /></a> <br />The mountains turn color gradually, and in spots here and there. Not so down here at the beginning of the Blue Ridge. At least this year, the colors all came in together and blanketed the area with sparkling color as the leaves shimmered in the gentle breezes of autumn.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN1Dk8fg8n2sX3_uWv3vQJ7LpNfk4chA7Vgpy8u9OV1iN2QSqVsnzeEiW7urEznTEhQI4z4nuZUYTa7WQ9Q1sYfKNvGXPi1IElE9tJLpNy7tkvyclMfdLG1TA0r-U5qkvDWlqQQw/s1600-h/IMG_5266.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 190px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN1Dk8fg8n2sX3_uWv3vQJ7LpNfk4chA7Vgpy8u9OV1iN2QSqVsnzeEiW7urEznTEhQI4z4nuZUYTa7WQ9Q1sYfKNvGXPi1IElE9tJLpNy7tkvyclMfdLG1TA0r-U5qkvDWlqQQw/s320/IMG_5266.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268013454884031058" /></a><br />The top picture shows a view typical of Hickory between the downtown, the art museum and the university. This is the old, original "suburbs" of the city and many of the fine old homes here now serve as offices for professional services, many of with connected with the school<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiem633oTVNaBoev0Uqqtb0dIJyV0-rtRQ9S-q-yQVg4N9gRBLSUxyxCBlrHbBjGvaHtGgF6wemgVoxFgRz9vkxwAcSivWya5Lr2S0Q4nftQhS_qjFuTSCaExfKyK6JAL3i2j-jtA/s1600-h/FallingCreek3695tiny.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiem633oTVNaBoev0Uqqtb0dIJyV0-rtRQ9S-q-yQVg4N9gRBLSUxyxCBlrHbBjGvaHtGgF6wemgVoxFgRz9vkxwAcSivWya5Lr2S0Q4nftQhS_qjFuTSCaExfKyK6JAL3i2j-jtA/s320/FallingCreek3695tiny.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268013437538561138" /></a><br />The next three photographs were made in the neighborhood in which I live, typical of many in the northeastern and northwestern parts of the city. The neighboorhood is known as Falling Creek, and that creek is show in the fourth photo.<br />It now seems that the town of Hickory must have been mis-named. Perhaps it should be changed to be called Maples, North Carolina, after the enormoun number of sugar maples trees here. Of course, that tree is not native to the region, so all of these beauties were brought in and planted by thoughtful people many years ago.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6FKpcKnsDtsnbDOyPvpJy5fS0JVyN2M1BINrQXvCMCU0HQ7PK6o8St5rwL8Gcdu35olrayWTLOtq0_eclOjzpIU_z3KddK-FCh-jdsXMPj7H16joCo13LxEC-H8tHAInPoBawyA/s1600-h/IMG_5251Tiny.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 206px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6FKpcKnsDtsnbDOyPvpJy5fS0JVyN2M1BINrQXvCMCU0HQ7PK6o8St5rwL8Gcdu35olrayWTLOtq0_eclOjzpIU_z3KddK-FCh-jdsXMPj7H16joCo13LxEC-H8tHAInPoBawyA/s320/IMG_5251Tiny.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268013458551475346" /></a>The bottom picture offers a brief look at Lake Hickory.fauxtaographerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877503844857360940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11584895.post-50722232456344662662008-10-17T21:14:00.000-07:002008-10-17T21:31:02.881-07:00BRP 300 Mid October 2008A quick run down the Blue Ridge Parkway just ahead of a cold front bringing winds and rain took us from Blowing Rock south <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMBZNINOWV7C2dnzJ5SYWLsWFD9iZk2rxsnYDaQXZpaiqcu2t7T7zEkgxVPK0R2ZNpJC3NSOUu_YeZRPHYVXtKZ0f7rFOWUF0WG7aIFe0h8xhr75-TPT3_-VLtk8-hK34WhB9y/s1600-h/IMG_5041cTiny.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMBZNINOWV7C2dnzJ5SYWLsWFD9iZk2rxsnYDaQXZpaiqcu2t7T7zEkgxVPK0R2ZNpJC3NSOUu_YeZRPHYVXtKZ0f7rFOWUF0WG7aIFe0h8xhr75-TPT3_-VLtk8-hK34WhB9y/s320/IMG_5041cTiny.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258345842545362642" /></a>to Grandfather Mountain. We got on the parkway just after the clouds had arrived so the brilliant color had become somewhat subdued. Still we got a feel for the season. <br /><br />The above photo was made at Moses Cone Manor and the bottom one at Stack Rock Creek just south of Grandfather Mountain around mm 300. Lots of color, just ahead of the peak. Birches still in full leaf and completely yellow. Maples varying from yellow to green with lots of orange and reds showing. Around Stack Rock Creek the balsams brought their dark, dark greens into the picture along with sumach and some oaks showing early. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh62yCDUyP1PWKFb_6uMyawAERzoBSw6LhZ9OG3UHqJNcb8PrENnqnWpBlOie7phTrvK2bVOA5Gs6GBzVHJDEUN1AkSfbtNu39L-dOC1fOwYlRFUrEbpqy9egpmBzkS7lSjQO8f/s1600-h/StackRockCk5064cATiny.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh62yCDUyP1PWKFb_6uMyawAERzoBSw6LhZ9OG3UHqJNcb8PrENnqnWpBlOie7phTrvK2bVOA5Gs6GBzVHJDEUN1AkSfbtNu39L-dOC1fOwYlRFUrEbpqy9egpmBzkS7lSjQO8f/s320/StackRockCk5064cATiny.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258344300195111506" /></a>fauxtaographerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877503844857360940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11584895.post-68685645405550327072007-04-18T21:54:00.000-07:002008-12-08T14:14:40.453-08:00Howl<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF-zCD1XeGD6AheiMhq3IoKpTrM1EotF1SQuoB-Tq_uzFa1DW5cM7skce2mYlv1JMYffyAMdlsK-RCJ_VKySge0xg3U4rREbx2W0nr0IONV0R0lrT5EuJBDWHEIS_2ATSU2bb6/s1600-h/WolfmtnNight+.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF-zCD1XeGD6AheiMhq3IoKpTrM1EotF1SQuoB-Tq_uzFa1DW5cM7skce2mYlv1JMYffyAMdlsK-RCJ_VKySge0xg3U4rREbx2W0nr0IONV0R0lrT5EuJBDWHEIS_2ATSU2bb6/s400/WolfmtnNight+.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5060942088902141074" /></a><br />The first howl was a long slow moan that slid down deeply into the cold, moon-lit valley. <br /><br />It rolled all the way to the other mountain and then echoed down through the valley. <br /><br />Its answer came from a rocky crag high on the other side, a piercing scream thrown at the moon; but which rode easily through the dark fir forest, like a great savage beast chasing prey. <br /><br />My next howl was higher than my first, and its answer came lower, and as the moon rose in the sky we filled the valley with sad songs of lament, me and my dream, as we remembered another time, another way, another world - and the wild, free spirits we miss so deeply.<br /><br />© John Womack, 2007. All rights reserved.fauxtaographerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877503844857360940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11584895.post-83702073261355082282007-04-01T22:24:00.000-07:002012-06-03T21:19:34.945-07:00The Sunshine and the River.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0HB8e_EMYm4PchyRZ1YnRjQjn5Gzwii7yTfFTWbIo4GpuCtWAGJe1t9AQQscAx9htyu1QBjIhk4Pn4qWz8JbSmbmBo-cbQmH5NBb4OPEj_G3bn353tADkNir-jqL9IqFemGLk/s1600-h/BVFalls.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5048698090021909874" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0HB8e_EMYm4PchyRZ1YnRjQjn5Gzwii7yTfFTWbIo4GpuCtWAGJe1t9AQQscAx9htyu1QBjIhk4Pn4qWz8JbSmbmBo-cbQmH5NBb4OPEj_G3bn353tADkNir-jqL9IqFemGLk/s400/BVFalls.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a><br />
I must go places that you'll never see,<br />
The sunshine said to the river,<br />
like hot desert sand, Mongolian temples and whales<br />
that blow far out at sea.<br />
<br />
Oh, that may be true, the river laughed back,<br />
but I wander through places that never see you, <br />
through dark bosky glens, down deep, dark ravines,<br />
and through mossy riparian vistas .<br />
<br />
Then let's join each other, The sunshine said<br />
and we'll leap down these falls together,<br />
we'll fill that dark pool with bright flecks of foam,<br />
and we'll scatter the forest with glitter!<br />
<br />
© John Womack, 2007. All rights reserved.fauxtaographerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877503844857360940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11584895.post-81539794901009881962007-03-30T21:01:00.000-07:002008-12-08T14:14:40.749-08:00Quick As a Cat!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFDcHBXkpRfeeggn2qy7Fyl_yrwSQqnq8kbiU4cHCnjUXmSNxWTXUhd7V8ZnpcODzV0_gFO778aKNsuQkTKLPUJK0dcEu3mOpUxGH1NLk0v79uEY2ifhRAA3vq6wKFKcHIJOXn/s1600-h/QuickAsACata+.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFDcHBXkpRfeeggn2qy7Fyl_yrwSQqnq8kbiU4cHCnjUXmSNxWTXUhd7V8ZnpcODzV0_gFO778aKNsuQkTKLPUJK0dcEu3mOpUxGH1NLk0v79uEY2ifhRAA3vq6wKFKcHIJOXn/s400/QuickAsACata+.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5047934105534264674" /></a><br />Kittycat sat alone on the deck. <br />Although I sat with her she still sat alone. <br />She had found a "something" out in the woods <br />and was beaming herself out there – like kittycats do. <br />I had my camera and framed up her head, to get a nice profile picture. <br />I pressed the shutter and the lens went "Snap!" <br />and Kittycat was there – quick as a cat!<br /><br />© John Womack, 2007. All rights reserved.fauxtaographerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877503844857360940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11584895.post-92125884428830255752007-03-29T21:59:00.000-07:002008-12-08T14:14:40.969-08:00Reflections In a Gallery<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHyg3pCL7oeKAF-qV1zMRr-p13ixeswKj0-LjAxZpMT6fQffezjXXjqV0ZqRwhK2YML_o5gQqm7zneT6evTnq1HuTZu0ODZNe9_ucIQFreUGeO1QEdX_JG4EI_LyExBBHRW5-o/s1600-h/GalleryReflectionsARipplea.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHyg3pCL7oeKAF-qV1zMRr-p13ixeswKj0-LjAxZpMT6fQffezjXXjqV0ZqRwhK2YML_o5gQqm7zneT6evTnq1HuTZu0ODZNe9_ucIQFreUGeO1QEdX_JG4EI_LyExBBHRW5-o/s400/GalleryReflectionsARipplea.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5047578834429474130" /></a><br />Next time you find a good gallery go in and look at the art that hangs on its walls. Check out what's in the stack bins and the browse boxes, and then take some time to sit and reflect a while. There's more in a good gallery than first meets the eye. <br /><br />All languages are filled with wonderful words. And those words can be composed and organized into amazing concepts and thoughts, but the most beautiful thing that any word or concept can do is to combine with others and tell you a story that can enrich your life. And a good gallery is a lot like a good book, it can show you things you might not otherwise see, or even think of – and it has the ability to make you aware of who you really are.<br /><br />So next time you find a good gallery, go in and stroll around, look at the pictures. Check out the bins and browse boxes, and then just sit a while. Tune into the gallery. It has a story it can tell you, and that's just the beginning. If you watch closely enough, it will begin to tell you a little bit about yourself. Reflect on the pictures you see and reflect on the energies you can feel. Ask yourself what is it that wants to come through to you here. <br /><br />Franklin, North Carolina, has such a gallery. It is not only in the heart of town, it is really "uptown". <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhambG52LIP95CJQZcVQFgTcq7_PYk1RvBfb9Izch-G7b4zUAwqQIiOxi06kT4qqVXD8J-FDNOGs2G58cBNzGdRIOXteFzBdJdtTtWQIV91EwkGj1dc6bIC6k5uEDl_04FGiIZB/s1600-h/AUT_4445.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhambG52LIP95CJQZcVQFgTcq7_PYk1RvBfb9Izch-G7b4zUAwqQIiOxi06kT4qqVXD8J-FDNOGs2G58cBNzGdRIOXteFzBdJdtTtWQIV91EwkGj1dc6bIC6k5uEDl_04FGiIZB/s200/AUT_4445.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5121579222778000002" /></a>Its name is The Uptown Art Gallery, and it is where the Macon County Art Association hangs out its work.<br /><br />So come to Franklin. You'll by amazed. Come to the Uptown Art Gallery, look at the hangings, then sit a spell. Relax and feel what is really there. What are the messages that come through to you? And if you reflect carefully enough, you may find that you too are on the way to becoming a beautiful work of art.<br /><br />© John Womack, 2007. All rights reserved.fauxtaographerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877503844857360940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11584895.post-29255378777714871852007-03-26T21:46:00.000-07:002008-12-08T14:14:41.084-08:00Junk Mail<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixHqmrlLish2iG4s_aEE7PHAceNmAf0ZMmxQy4AbuOKy0uD_eGrg_M2CzOTQYGqj4b4pXbOGeGJuA7iqaXXELKZ02HV5KLp4-4zGSe_EZMH48Vv7KwuUKku9lgVv93h1E4vW3q/s1600-h/JunkMail-1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixHqmrlLish2iG4s_aEE7PHAceNmAf0ZMmxQy4AbuOKy0uD_eGrg_M2CzOTQYGqj4b4pXbOGeGJuA7iqaXXELKZ02HV5KLp4-4zGSe_EZMH48Vv7KwuUKku9lgVv93h1E4vW3q/s320/JunkMail-1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5047564338914850098" /></a><br /><br />Went out to pick up some trash out of the ditch where our gravel driveway reaches the hard road. Thought it would only take about 15 minutes, but spent almost three hour at the task. I had a plastic bag and filled it up real quick, then found two more bags in the bed of my pickup and eventually filled both of them up too. <br /><br />Wasn't as easy as I thought it would be. Turned out that dragging the plastic bags through the ditch didn't work very well, mainly because it wasn't really a ditch. Actually, it was just a steep grassy wall that fell off the road into the woods. The bags snagged, and so did I, and I realized I would have to develop some kind of a trash-pickup-protocol for doing this. At first I tried leaving the bag and tossing the stuff in its direction. But when that didn't work I realized I would have to throw everything I found up on the right-of-way of the hard road, so I could pick it all up later. That seemed to work pretty good.<br /><br />So I was stumblin through the buckberry branches, and the twisty Laurel limbs and a lot of Rhododendron arms and legs and knees. I tried to not step on the flowers -Windflowers had just come up, and there were a lot of Spring Beauties, and amazing violets - brilliant blue ones and bright purple ones, and gigantic white violets, all this poking up through the Milwaukee's Bests, the Icehouses, Steel Calibers, Busch Lights, and a lot of Mountain Dews. Even found one Budweiser - must be a republican tossed that one. Found a pair of old sneakers, 4 hanging pot plants, a lot of disposable diaper things - guess those had mostly disposed - some paint cans, lots of cigarette stuff and a whole lot of Kentucky Fried Chicken remnants.<br /><br />At last I was through. I staggered back to the truck to get the other two bags and was just coming back past my mailbox when I heard a Jeep coming up the hard road. It was our mailman. <br /><br />Billy pulled up on the right side of the road, sitting on the right side of his Jeep, with his eyes rolling around at all the trash. <br /><br />"Whut happen heer?" He grinned as he held out a couple of letters to me.<br /><br />"Didn't you hear about the accident?" I asked him.<br /><br />"Man, I doan heer nuthin' bout innythang when I'm out here - whut happen?"<br /><br />"A mail truck turned over." I said.<br /><br />Billy looked back over his shoulder al all the trash on the side of the road. "Where is th'truck?"<br /><br />I told him pretty matter-of-factly, "Oh they hauled it away."<br /><br />"Is the driver OK?"<br /><br />"Yeah, he's fine, he's gone to get a bandage on, I'm cleaning up for the Post Office."<br /><br />Billy looked at me "Wheres the Post Office people?"<br /><br />"They're at work, back at the office. No big deal they said - it was a junk mail truck."<br /><br />Billy looked back at the trash, then at me. "You spoofin me." He said sofly, with a question mark floating in afterwards trying to find its proper place.<br /><br />"It's a fact." I said confidently.<br /><br />"OK, see you later." Billy put his Jeep in gear and pulled up the road to the next mailbox.<br /><br />I bagged my trophies and went home.<br /><br />© John Womack, 2007. All rights reserved.fauxtaographerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877503844857360940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11584895.post-22656440664322381722007-03-25T21:25:00.000-07:002008-12-08T14:14:41.176-08:00The Happiest Horse in the Mountains<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxsXJHZAn174hsno4U-2SzyY-p3yCvOntdHNhePnRSoDml-rWSg7t_orc_LFEwVu-ljfdIouYNhzl5FuO-i-WnWWRXLqZFTRcghpYIAAzNU6vGi6AzYhks_Bm4a2FXne41S2Qp/s1600-h/HappiestHorseSm.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxsXJHZAn174hsno4U-2SzyY-p3yCvOntdHNhePnRSoDml-rWSg7t_orc_LFEwVu-ljfdIouYNhzl5FuO-i-WnWWRXLqZFTRcghpYIAAzNU6vGi6AzYhks_Bm4a2FXne41S2Qp/s320/HappiestHorseSm.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5046085972013326818" /></a><br />The happiest horse in the mountains<br />Is a horse with a whole lot of hay<br />But when this poor guy came up to the mountains<br />he was a horse who had no hay at all.<br /><br />They gave him a fence of bright, shiny barbed-wire,<br />and went off and left him all night<br />with a very small bucket of water to drink<br />and a itty-bitty bale of hay.<br /><br />But next day they came back in a great big truck<br />With a trough of water that fills by itself, <br />and a bale of hay as big as his eyes! <br />For the happiest horse in the mountains.<br /><br />© John Womack, 2007. All rights reserved.fauxtaographerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877503844857360940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11584895.post-86546645810930671122007-03-24T09:52:00.000-07:002008-10-18T06:54:23.801-07:00The Thang<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxjJin7zgT8N-aD9E5Szt5EXZeHoDcoH97K9A4qvlVOGWvwTiEAmk_rn-AVmKESEHWpeuTroPuASYQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br />I first saw it late in the evening when The Thang was crossing the road far ahead of me as I was walking my dogs. It ran - or rater floated - as it moved and my first thought was of a huge spider. When it stands upright it is considerably taller than it is long, like a bob-cat, and to a lesser extent a coyote, although it crouches so much that that is hard to notice. These pictures were made from my front porch in mid-afternoon.fauxtaographerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877503844857360940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11584895.post-1171950258992807792007-02-19T21:26:00.000-08:002007-02-19T21:44:19.003-08:00Dead of WinterHow to make it through the worst of the wild, cold winds of winter?<br /><br />Some say go to Florida. Others prefer to fly to Hawaii. But those are far more expensive than a really good book, <a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6947/944/1600/639129/DeadOfWinter.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6947/944/320/970793/DeadOfWinter.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>and tradition touts that trick to triumph in the end. <br /><br />Then again, you just can't beat a bed that's made of four folded-over cardboard boxes topped by a old blue blanket folded four times, covered with a polyester pillow that is 6" thick, and then add another 4" thick soft poly topping! <br /><br />Oh, what a place for old, cold bones! Let the winter wind howl, let the snow fall fast and fly free, let the darkness grip the world, but – here! – here there is light and warmth and many a thump of a mighty tail.<br /><br />photo made with Canon Optura 400 SD card, auto flash>APS.<br />© John Womack, 2007. All rights reserved.fauxtaographerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877503844857360940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11584895.post-29846779121771089072007-02-17T09:02:00.000-08:002009-04-27T21:18:31.987-07:00More Video Made With Still CameraThanks for this introduction to the New World of Photography, Jack. I just glanced at a few seqs - will go back later today and view the entire thing. Note that little (none?) of his work was done in video mode. Most of it was still pictures that have been presented in a video-format such as is available in Mac's iMovie or Final Cut Express/Pro. Pics made with a good camera, sure, but the presentation is really the key here - no more slide shows in almost darkened rooms with a wobbly screen for background and a CD playing music out of sync. Not clear about the audio background - it sounded like loops but there are serious problems about copyright when it comes to music. Did not pick up much ambient audio background (skis on snow, water flowing, trees rustling, animals calling, wind, etc.) and did not notice much in the way of titles or narration. Did not see any indication of written story or storyboarding but lots of interesting views with some great wide-angle views. Personally, I would like to keep those to a minimum and use them to seque into action. But Wow! Lot's of potential here. I did two presentations at the Franklin Camera Club of how to do exactly this type of thing and present this type of "slide show" and they fell on blind eyes and deaf ears. "Photographers" are just not interested in this. They are locked on to the One Great Shot idea (which I myself taught for 10 years!). It's still a valid concept but still only a small part of the new world of photography. My little Canon PowerShot will do a lot of this same kind of work although without the brilliant clarity, and or course wide angles. And the BEST part of this type of work? You can take your presentation with you on a DVD. Forget the stands, the two slide carousels, the extension wires, the extra bulb, those precious slides themselves - leave them all safely behind. SECOND best? You can rearrange these shots easily and at will, without having to pull slides and re-put them. THIRD best? Your presentation preparation consists of turning on the TV. Thanks again.<br /><br />John<br /><br />On Feb 17, 2009, at 9:00 AM, Jack MacLean wrote:<br /><br />Here's an example of movies taken with an expensive Canon dslr.<br />Regards Jack<br />http://vimeo.com/3155182?pg=embed&sec=3155182&hd=1fauxtaographerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877503844857360940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11584895.post-7151186381737926252007-01-17T21:47:00.000-08:002008-12-08T14:14:41.241-08:00Southern Snow<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirYMKlFRuzge-l7OSWAGh40ggsDZtK9-doDpuqVlPtYxUgXK7WC-zWknbdoWeGtpd_TJQj64uwpxnFeYb2wdylWKTaFIIW6q4iEwovdbNwN1DeeWVfpyeRbxrD2LCFOQ1ct-FE/s1600-h/a1IMG_1866Tiny.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirYMKlFRuzge-l7OSWAGh40ggsDZtK9-doDpuqVlPtYxUgXK7WC-zWknbdoWeGtpd_TJQj64uwpxnFeYb2wdylWKTaFIIW6q4iEwovdbNwN1DeeWVfpyeRbxrD2LCFOQ1ct-FE/s320/a1IMG_1866Tiny.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5156690125308499762" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj04QPPLuI0oqVRhE3FMa6dzt4G4cbRSo9isQZNhyfLa_SZuSZqsP6ZckkPcb75ROnITpg_yJGpPsFH4oCY3sSsIBZ5K19q6qQU0TiHWFyko-9wi2fzuRDBb4fHMNcVgyxMGu95/s1600-h/a2IMG_1867Tiny.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj04QPPLuI0oqVRhE3FMa6dzt4G4cbRSo9isQZNhyfLa_SZuSZqsP6ZckkPcb75ROnITpg_yJGpPsFH4oCY3sSsIBZ5K19q6qQU0TiHWFyko-9wi2fzuRDBb4fHMNcVgyxMGu95/s320/a2IMG_1867Tiny.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5156690133898434370" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx1q3CBI6PNVISU_kglX5nn-2IZoJbhODPeE1C9t-VGJO3LRZ-kwC16lXjKVWuc8w0S1LVmhP4KGtBWSzSpvplzgGbzOKec6EpA-Rpsd5hayUuR7ilAvHOabKn_oAqEiuXPxp6/s1600-h/b1IMG_1875Tiny.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx1q3CBI6PNVISU_kglX5nn-2IZoJbhODPeE1C9t-VGJO3LRZ-kwC16lXjKVWuc8w0S1LVmhP4KGtBWSzSpvplzgGbzOKec6EpA-Rpsd5hayUuR7ilAvHOabKn_oAqEiuXPxp6/s320/b1IMG_1875Tiny.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5156690138193401682" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz3n80nuRQA6KiCvQnIPUxxmVu9CT1LXt0_ak-wCutnEZSNTQ3LjDJ370TCseqpccTUBjMkVSVAzTDy-EngZTW9ZKYy42JlWkvlh81UgQ0cDxs1uFc2e98s7y9quAuyQsisVif/s1600-h/b2IMG_1873Tiny.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz3n80nuRQA6KiCvQnIPUxxmVu9CT1LXt0_ak-wCutnEZSNTQ3LjDJ370TCseqpccTUBjMkVSVAzTDy-EngZTW9ZKYy42JlWkvlh81UgQ0cDxs1uFc2e98s7y9quAuyQsisVif/s320/b2IMG_1873Tiny.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5156690138193401698" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHF_jI6x-KyAWP_1sGxJL8V3wVjzGHJse0FxSBhnovNbHvOZSTbUAIEUg9SNeSL72PAadERhPuLFyrJUl0iVsvLRQmE9fOG5vjTLgJSkdunBp6nYHePPQ1lnkPC9_aRULBMs9Q/s1600-h/cIMG_1844Tiny.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHF_jI6x-KyAWP_1sGxJL8V3wVjzGHJse0FxSBhnovNbHvOZSTbUAIEUg9SNeSL72PAadERhPuLFyrJUl0iVsvLRQmE9fOG5vjTLgJSkdunBp6nYHePPQ1lnkPC9_aRULBMs9Q/s320/cIMG_1844Tiny.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5156690142488369010" /></a><br />Winters come to the southern mountains in lots of different days. It brings sunny, warm breezes, and dark drizzles. Some days even bring snow.fauxtaographerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877503844857360940noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11584895.post-1168149020915883592007-01-02T21:33:00.000-08:002007-01-07T08:17:27.450-08:00Winter Days in the Southern Mountains<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6947/944/1600/734668/IMG_0410%20copy.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6947/944/320/866167/IMG_0410%20copy.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Early January. No leaves on the trees. No clouds in the sky. That is typical of the southern mountains of America in the dead of winter.<br /><br />The sun falls with intenisty upon the earth, blasting down through the leafless trees upon the ground with the power to stir the earth and split seeds asunder. <br /><br />Here, on my driveway under my house, I see a world of magic. There is no sign of life, yet it is abundantly present. It is real life, but below the ground. The leaves don't grow, the trees don't appear to grow, but their roots grow happily and network with each other and strengthen their connection with themselves and their mother the earth. They enrich the soil, gather nourishment to themselves and prepare for miracles soon to come. <br /><br /><br />© John Womack, 2007. All rights reserved.fauxtaographerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877503844857360940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11584895.post-1168147775697138122007-01-01T21:15:00.000-08:002007-01-09T06:59:18.393-08:00Hoppin' John<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6947/944/1600/272161/HopJohn0404%20copy.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6947/944/320/89345/HopJohn0404%20copy.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />You know you are a southerner, and that it is New Year's Day when you settle in for a great meal of Hoppin' John - the only meal in the world that can guarantee you financial good fortune in the year that began today! But ONLY if you eat it on New Year's Day.<br /><br />Legend has it that the greens in the meal will bring greenbacks fluttering into your hands all through the year to come, and the black-eyed peas will attract lots of coins. Add more onions (at least 4 cups of carmelized Spanish onions) and a handful of chopped scallions along with tomato wedges, all this must be blessed with hot-pepper vinegar and a dash of soy sauce and your fortune for the year to come is then secure - but only IF - you have have greasy cornbread, slathered with real butter while it is so hot that the butter melts into the pone - THEN - you can go forward confidently into the New Year with unfettered happiness. <br /><br />Go call your broker!<br /><br />© John Womack, 2007. All rights reserved.fauxtaographerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877503844857360940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11584895.post-1167111485868875132006-12-25T21:24:00.000-08:002006-12-26T21:33:42.876-08:00Christmas Morning 2006<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6947/944/1600/875776/IMG_0312.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6947/944/320/185432/IMG_0312.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Clouds drift across the mountain and slide down our driveway to the hard road a hundred feet below our house. Rain is falling and a soft breeze flows up from the south. Temperature outside at nine o'clock is 48° and the day is dark. <br /><br />Inside, all three fireplaces are temporarily running to warm the house up from its long night cool down. Both trees are lighted as are the lights on the deck and the angels above the living room fireplace and the little village above our bookcase. "Oh Come All Ye Faithful" booms out in joy from all four speakers and brightly wrapped Christmas presents still lie underneath the Christmas tree in the living room. Down in the basement the doggies are now being fed breakfast. <br /><br />It's Christmas morning in the Beautiful Mountains.<br /><br />© John Womack, 2006. All rights reserved.fauxtaographerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877503844857360940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11584895.post-46463477604442972492006-11-25T07:49:00.000-08:002008-12-08T14:14:41.802-08:00Wayah Frost<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE3zAAxbW_fQuBaM5ZQsNbUHsWY4POsaCGLAQBQWfOCR4K9SUrP4GbCURJv-RtjenqfA8grrahApwHgK3TUkeZWSX6_CeyfVW2PlJswxvm0KPygdJrnCBd7wVtsxYLuhqarwlE/s1600-h/aIMG_1599.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE3zAAxbW_fQuBaM5ZQsNbUHsWY4POsaCGLAQBQWfOCR4K9SUrP4GbCURJv-RtjenqfA8grrahApwHgK3TUkeZWSX6_CeyfVW2PlJswxvm0KPygdJrnCBd7wVtsxYLuhqarwlE/s320/aIMG_1599.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5136807336427108834" /></a>My son, his wife and daughter were up here from Florida to share Thanksgiving with us. <br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9mCpsO3HuFmMjKf7QRbRf_a2xXfONKBtqUxKPDDyTGEVEO34IA5PEax1H6b5pzQT5ZmhKd7M0JRW3z9GOPgCey5FKP6NUmirCY850ffkOan2v2pxdTiQJHmt1rPeM0TEkPUMa/s1600-h/aIMG_1601.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9mCpsO3HuFmMjKf7QRbRf_a2xXfONKBtqUxKPDDyTGEVEO34IA5PEax1H6b5pzQT5ZmhKd7M0JRW3z9GOPgCey5FKP6NUmirCY850ffkOan2v2pxdTiQJHmt1rPeM0TEkPUMa/s320/aIMG_1601.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5136807345017043442" /></a> <br /><br />We needed some fixings for lunch, so I ran down to Ingles. My son and granddaughter went with me. On the way we noticed that Wayah was frosted like a cake with icing on top. They wanted to go up there after lunch, but I knew it would all be gone in 30 minutes. So we ran up there quickly to see the big show.<br /><br />The only camera we had with us was my little video camera and these pictures were made with it's one mp resolution still-photo capabliity.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSK1eU3bSsKCHYkNl0o9fV_wyfMDP3XEb9fSiufy2XZ65ym5dJgUeX3BUexEZBp3-uk7P85phU12gHlLzazxnWXRc64GT4yOOPNZhevhdtksloDnit3oyX8ruOuIEpcH34i5b6/s1600-h/aIMG_1604.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSK1eU3bSsKCHYkNl0o9fV_wyfMDP3XEb9fSiufy2XZ65ym5dJgUeX3BUexEZBp3-uk7P85phU12gHlLzazxnWXRc64GT4yOOPNZhevhdtksloDnit3oyX8ruOuIEpcH34i5b6/s320/aIMG_1604.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5136807353606978050" /></a><br />There was some snow on the ground, but the big show was the "frosting" on top of the Wayah Bald "cake". It appeared to be a frost formed as cold and moist air encountered an accommodating object, such as tree limbs. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAj5YluAdPXdWi0AvDW__W7uZDyO6VobgQchur-6FsjHTpA9J9KOscgd5v-mx5Ezg-tkLXGedaMLgLxj8_Ag5_OpBR-CHUqEHS6qZruC7iIMbKwtzwGFF1sHRTpdo61T0akmfc/s1600-h/aIMG_1609.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAj5YluAdPXdWi0AvDW__W7uZDyO6VobgQchur-6FsjHTpA9J9KOscgd5v-mx5Ezg-tkLXGedaMLgLxj8_Ag5_OpBR-CHUqEHS6qZruC7iIMbKwtzwGFF1sHRTpdo61T0akmfc/s320/aIMG_1609.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5136807357901945362" /></a><br /><br />Meteorologists refer to this formation as "wind frost", and it occurs as cold, moist air flows over already frozen objects. The frost formation shows the direction of the wind at the time it was formed since the "tail" grows outward into the wind.fauxtaographerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877503844857360940noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11584895.post-66893122387362995232006-10-12T21:29:00.000-07:002009-06-22T20:32:57.410-07:00New cameras shoot video - why?Well, the issue is - it seems to me - that most images will now be viewed on computer, TV, iPod, PDA or whatnot screens. Some will still be printed, some will still be matted, framed and displayed on walls. But the opportunities of ways to tell stories with images have increased dramatically. They can now be produced in numbers unfathomable in our younger days and be manipulated, combined and presented in ways that still boggle my mind. Now they can even come alive (through the magic of video clips). Trees can actually wave their leaves and streams can flow and sparkle, and there is that other thing that goes along with video - sound. You can hear the leaves rustle, and the stream gurgle, the waterfall fall, all along with birds singing and coyote yippings and so on. So the trick is how you want to tell the story. Now you have another way. <br /><br />Photography is moving into the world long reserved for writing or music, those arts which are sequential and flow from one point to another, very unlike the paintings and photos in which the elements don't move. So if the mainstream of "photography" is moving more into the world of the author, where does this leave those who still wish to shoot the old-fashioned thing called "stills"? Not really in a very different position than they have been. The art of making a good photograph or painting is even more firmly now dependent upon the art of attracting the viewer's eye (imagination), and leading that imagination through your picture as you want it to understand your story. To me that means still photographers are even more firmly in the niche which has really been theirs all alone which is the the art of composing and telling their photographic story as a work of poetry rather than prose. The prose part of photography is the work of the videographer. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaSrO7W6pDGeBVBKtvueVZ5q0kJKk6oRCwNHkW6Pi0S3TAZSNGn9IHX_Uo1WOoQY66txZeo4lHF_AQJIzlus3LuC29nR9Z9fGTcxWQWLk-XHhj0gzKKPvuJjOsMemRv_SOoO7A/s1600-h/Waltz3580A.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaSrO7W6pDGeBVBKtvueVZ5q0kJKk6oRCwNHkW6Pi0S3TAZSNGn9IHX_Uo1WOoQY66txZeo4lHF_AQJIzlus3LuC29nR9Z9fGTcxWQWLk-XHhj0gzKKPvuJjOsMemRv_SOoO7A/s320/Waltz3580A.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256498588633580594" /></a>My current outlook on the still/video clip issue is that we photographers now have two good ways of telling the same story. The still picture, like the this one, above, is complex, structured to lead the viewer's eye through partial images which become symbols - the wrinkled face, the wisp of white hair, the bowler hat on the trumpet player's head - and closer up on the larger photo the look of tenderness in the trumpet player's eye as the 85-year old couple dance to the "Blue Skirt Waltz". The bottom video clip contains far less information. but with the movement and audio and changing images, it tells the same story but in a different way. And notice how it transcends its "limited information" to bring in information about the surroundings and the event, especially through the use of sound. And - oh yes - the top image was actually pulled out of a video clip - a "dispicical" trick which my photo-journalist step-son calls a "frame grab". So that's another option. I like frame-grabs as long as the final picture is no bigger than about 4 X 6 inches.<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwS0-2ePMaOwMb_Tyx2TkJRFenqqYC79Ki_FniZLq3HzG-bS-78K_SchYo815o3UFHVqOkbptOqdKg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>fauxtaographerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00877503844857360940noreply@blogger.com0