fourpointedstar

I’ve never attended a portrait event before; in fact, I often joke that I will photograph anything, except for people.

For some reason when I saw the “House of Venom” photoshoot, I signed up. The models were very welcoming, and I’m very thankful for Baylee and Veronica for helping me. They posed without my directing and were kind and welcoming. After working with those two, I felt a bit more confident and was able to work with a few other models as well.

When I first arrived, I mostly took photos over other people’s shoulders (which was welcomed and encouraged by some of the photographers), and then worked with Baylee (pink dress), Nicki (blue dress), and Veronica (starry night top laying on the floor). That first image of Nicki is easily my favorite maybe followed by the monochrome profile photo of Veronika.

But I learned the most from this image of Loe, one of the organizers for the event. I would edit the image, export, then go back and edit it some more – something I almost never do. You can see the before and after – fixing the color, brightness, adding layers for focus, removing hair on her face, and so much more. I almost never spend more than 10 minutes fixing an image; it’s either right or it’s not. For this image I was weak technically; her pleasant expression made it worth the effort.

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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.

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>other images<
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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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?

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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.