fourpointedstar

Back in November 2023, Side Street Studio Arts hosted a photo walk; each participant was supposed to pick a “challenge” for the day, so I took every photo at 200mm. I’ve already posted several of my photos, so make sure to check those photos out too.

.

>other images<
.

It’s no secret that I LOVE photographing light trails. I will visit the same spot OVER (January 2022) and OVER (January 2022) and OVER (April 2022) and OVER (November 2023) to see if I can get a NEW (November 2020), FRESH (January 2023), or INTERESTING (November 2023) photo.

But consistently I wonder, how can I create an image that challenges me this time – that presents a new challenge. At its core, capturing a light trail is just understanding how the light is moving and the exposure that’s need to not under or over-expose your image. So, how can I create an interesting composition with each visit?

What do you do when the light trails are from trains, when the pattern will only repeat over and over? The backdrop, scenery, and angle can change as seen in the two contrasting images: January 2021 & November 2023

How about if the space is tight and you’re below the action? Maybe you can lean on the really strong angles (November 2023) or depend on the architectural elements and allow the light trails to be an accent instead of the star of the show (also November 2023)? As it turns out, “Laser Bridge Light” (above) is one of my favorite compositions not just from that recent trip downtown, but also of light trails along the river.

And lastly, there are the images that challenge us compositionally and technically; here the balance of a very wide flat scene combined with the oncoming lights from traffic is more than I can conquer right now. I like this image better than my last attempt (November 2020); and I’ll be honest, previously, I have would have just not attempted to capture the image; but there is a much better image in that scene – I just have to find it.

.

>alternate images<
.

Each time that I explore a new area of Chicago, new details come to life. I’ve noticed that many of the historic buildings around Chicago have these bay windows often similar in style to the “Chicago Window” on them; but as I walked between the Fisher and Monadnock Buildings and then looked down the street, I noticed that this small area had many different examples of these historic bay windows on tall, early skyscrapers.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Equally interesting are the exterior fire escapes on many of the older buildings. I know that there fire escapes will lend themselves to great photos, but I’m still searching for those images.

.
Parking garages offer unique views of Chicago, so anytime that I park in a garage, I walk down the staircase. On my way to visit a client, I saw spotted this puddle’s reflection and in my mind, I wandered off to what I could create with just a boring staircase.
.

.

.

.

.

.

.

What do you SEE as you walk around your daily life? A photographer friend of mine recently asked about taking photos of another artist’s work; but in reality, aren’t photographers normally taking photos of other artist’s work? Even nature photographers are taking photos of mother nature’s work, right?

A craftsman who creates an object out of paint, clay, wood, stone, or metal can claim originality, but most of us are taking photos of something we didn’t create; instead we are creating art by adding or interpreting the existing environment or material.

With that in mind, go around your home and create art by adding or interpreting your own personal environment.

.

.

.

.

.

.

>other images<
.

.

In the last ten years, I have had the opportunity to photograph several dance festivals. Over those events, I have discovered a difficulty with photographing modern dance – modern dancers are less likely to perform a particular jump at a particular time in the musical score; their movement is often more like a twisting stream than a waterfall. As I watched the various performances at Side Street’s Going Dutch Festival this past November, I realized that a long exposure could reflect the beauty of the performer’s dance and expression; as short as a tenth of a second up to a full second of exposure.

And while some movement still seems to require the “moment in time” capture, I really like how these images reflect the movement and passion of these artists.

.
.

.

.

.

.

.

.

>other images<
.

Sarah and I have traveled to see the Foo Fighters multiple times, so this trip was easy; just a quick trip up to Milwaukee for the weekend (we saw Green Day on the second night of the festival!). What stands out about this concert is that Josh Freese was on the drums; he was later let go, but we saw him again because he also tours with Nine Inch Nails.
This festival seemed to be more relaxed on security, so I brought my Sony in to capture a few photos of our favorite band!

.

>other images<
.

Grandpa Smith’s basement was the coolest place when I was young mostly because Grandpa Smith was so cool. When he came over, we would get a Stephen Beisty book and spend hours reading it together. I learned to ride a bike at his house, played Chutes and Ladders, and read National Geographics on the back porch.

.

.

But Grandpa’s basement? Their house was a typical farmhouse in a small town along the Mississippi in Iowa, so the basement was small and oddly shaped, but filled with adventures. The door to the outside was small, the floor was uneven, there was a dartboard, and there were pictures or trains and planes hanging up.

.

.

In the farthest corner sat Grandpa’s toolbench. I couldn’t reach the light switch, so when Grandpa came down, his presence illuminated the area; filled with so many old tools, gadgets, and things that he’d saved just in case. Grandpa was born in 1914, became an adult through the Great Depression, and established his career during World War II. His life was formed by the philosophy of “nothing goes to waste” and “everything is useful”.  His toolbench reflected that philosophy.

.

.

When he passed, Grandma left his area untouched; my Dad and Uncles mostly worked through his tools and collections over the next few years. Over the years, I received a few of those tools and collections; they’re precious memories that I won’t discard, but a tin can of screws is difficult to put in the china cabinet.

.

.

After my Dad passed, I gathered a few more of Grandpa’s items and thought “when I’m better at still life photography, I’ll take some photos.” I still don’t feel that I’m great at still life, but here’s a feeble attempt to honor my Grandpa’s legacy as an electrician, handyman, lifelong learner, and as someone who passed his love of learning onto his grandson.

.

.

Grandpa stored washers, screws, bolts, nuts, and so much else in these small containers (including metal bandaid containers!). The tin at the top left has a sticker that reads “Muscatine, Iowa”, and the bottom right container has “coat hangers” in Grandpa Smith’s handwriting. And just as fun little family note – “Jan” is my older sister who wrote that when she was 5 or 6?

.

.

Grandma & Grandpa Smith lived in Muscatine their entire adult lives; when the holidays rolled around, our family would pack up the car and head to Iowa after school on Friday. We’d get there at 7 or 8pm, and we 5 kids were starving!

Grandma had the perfect solution: warm Grandma sandwiches.

They weren’t fancy; just bologna, cheese and mayo baked on an open faced burger or hot dog bun. If we were lucky and got to Grandma’s house early enough, we got to turn the crank on the hand mixer.

When we got together this summer, we had Grandma sandwiches, not because of the ingredients, but because Grandma sandwiches remind all 5 of us J’s (and my Mom) of the holidays and the slower pace of Grandma & Grandpa’s house.

There were two trees that simply glowed yellow in the afternoon as I drove through my neighborhood. When I got home, I picked up my camera and walked around the block capturing the various autumn scenes, including this tree. I could have placed a lawn chair underneath it and stared into the majestic canopy for the rest of the afternoon, but I have a feeling the neighbor would have asked me to leave.

I’m sure it comes as no surprise that I love photography, but it may come as a surprise that I don’t enjoy posting it – posting images seems like labor, but capturing and editing feels like creativity. Maybe it’s the planning, organization, and interfaces; maybe it’s the time, formatting, or potential distractions; or maybe its the fact that I’d simply rather be doing something else … like taking more photos.

But over the twenty plus years of enjoying photography, photography from an artistic standpoint has become so much more interesting. Over the past five years, I have searched for new inspiration with my photography, but when I searched online, most of what I found in photography blogs, YouTube, and even many photographers is chatter about gear, technology, and software. While each of those can help with creating a better image, none of that will make you a better photographer.

As I talk with other artists and photographers, I find myself drawn to conversations about creativity and inspiration. These are not easy topics for my analytical brain to grasp; I struggle with answering the question “why do you like that photo?” and I tend to review the image from a technical level.
But I’m working on developing that skill, exercising that muscle, learning that vocabulary.

For 15 years, photographic success for me was posting an image each day on my website – an image that I like and wanted to share. But for me that’s no longer photographic success. I want to share my artistic journey; not merely my photos, but why and how I capture those images, and what I’ve learned along the way.

Here’s to a new season.