Archive for iphone
Winter arrives…the temperatures drop, winds begin to howl, there’s a pink to the atmosphere, heralding, perhaps, a coming storm. I’m ready for a wall of snow. I’ve been waiting for the winter of all winter’s ever since I moved to the Northeast. Five years, I’ve been waiting. I’d be lying if I said that I haven’t enjoyed these mild winters, but something deep inside cries for a tempest.
This is an unusual winter day, in central New York…wet and windy after a night and morning of torrid rain. We continue this winter’s pattern of unusually mild weather with spikes of freeze.
The rainbow was a nice surprise, Henry and Valentine sauntering beneath it, too.
Ah, winter in central New York…
Just over five years ago (after too many years in LA), I moved to central New York to renovate an 1820’s farmhouse that I had bought sight unseen off of a Facebook post.
Central New York. The beauty of the area, the seasons, the open spaces…brought me to my knees. Literally. It was what made of me an Iphonographer.
It was as if, so far into the middle of nowhere, I could see again.
That first winter was mild and wet, too. I wondered where the fabled heavy snows and ice storms of the NE had gone.
I remain grateful for the reprieve…as do Henry and Valentine. Their endless foraging continues unhampered by pesky ice and snow. Miller (not pictured) continues to lay eggs.
And I continue to take photos with my iPhone, unable still to use it as an actual phone..in the middle of nowhere.
I did it!
I love taking iPhone photos. I have had several shows in the past year and I have sold a great number of photos to a wonderful group of collectors.
But, I have never entered a mobile photography contest.
It’s like my writing.
I have written scores of poems, have read them in public, have been published online and in anthologies and have even had a publication find me and ask me to buy some of my poems…I said yes and sold 2 poems to said publication for $1,000.
But that didn’t galvanize me.
I don’t know why.
Ok, yes, I do.
A crippling self-doubt comes over me when I sit down to even think about entering a contest or submitting for publication.
My entire being shouts into my ear— YOU are no good, who are YOU? What are YOU thinking? That photo/poem etc just doesn’t cut it.
The joy of taking that photo or writing that poem is completely chucked.
Are you like this?
OMG, it is so dismal.
Well, today is different.
Thanks to Paul Toussaint’s gentle reminder, I sent a portfolio link off to an actual iphoneography contest.
I wrapped my head around creating a special account on IG just for this purpose.
And not just any contest.
The Mobile Masters Contest.
Wish me luck!
Here is the link to my online portfolio:
Here’s a link to my normal IG account (if you consider being inundated by iphoneography normal):
ONLY DAYS LEFT TO ENTER CONTEST Mar 2nd
WINNERS REVEALED AT SANFRAN MACWORLD EVENT Mar 26th
CLICK LINK TO ENTER> https://gum.co/PROOF/special
The objective of this is to showcase the world’s top 48 artists who are breaking new ground in mobile image discovery and invention.
The mobile platform has leveled the playing field allowing amazing work to emerge from the most unexpected places. Thus ALL levels are welcome, from novice to pro, to submit work for inclusion.
The resulting eBook and Show hopes to prove that Mobile Photography has become a distinctive new movement in the history of the art form.
Over 3000 dollars in prizes and many exposure opportunities for the winning artist.
Easy to Enter. No images to upload or long forms to fill out. We are not judging just one or 2 of your images, instead submit your complete ePortfolio Link like a Flickr Set or Instagram feed.
Your work will be seen by 6 very notable judges. 3 from the traditional fine art photography side and 3 well know Mobile artist. The winners will be announced on March 26 at the Macworld/iWorld Expo Mobile Masters Workshop.
Enrollment for this Event is now open, see Mobile Masters website. http://bit.ly/mmproof
Deadline is March 2nd, 2014
Is not this a true autumn day? Just the still melancholy that I love — that makes life and nature harmonize. The birds are consulting about their migrations, the trees are putting on the hectic or the pallid hues of decay, and begin to strew the ground, that one’s very footsteps may not disturb the repose of earth and air, while they give us a scent that is a perfect anodyne to the restless spirit. Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns. ~George Eliot, letter to Miss Lewis, 1st October 1841
My third Fall in Central New York!
Yesterday, I drove to Sharon Springs for the HarvestFest and took back roads, it was a blue sky day, the leaves are changing, the corn is blonde.
I LOVE this place. This is the kind of thing that turns me on- a perfect crisp Fall day.
When I left LA , three years ago, I had no idea what to expect. I knew I was going to the east coast, I knew it was somewhere in the middle of NY state. I knew one person, the guy who posted the picture of my house on Facebook (neighbor, Tim), and I knew that the house I bought sight unseen from that post was waiting to be renovated.
I didn’t know where I would work, I didn’t know how far away a grocery store might be (12 miles). I said goodbye to Starbucks (nearest one, 100 miles away) and all the trapping of a city.
Because I had no expectations everything is a bonus.
I am in the middle of nowhere but there are great people here (always great people, no matter where I roam)- Tim has a girlfriend Margo, whom I love and is my photography muse- one of my muses, out here I have so many muses.
The guys who demo’d and rebuilt my house, a fun group of rag tag gypsies, all turned out to have hearts of gold.
I found a job with Beekman 1802 (wholesale director).
I’ve met a fantastic group of women (Leslie, Cheryl, Susan, Carla, Tina, Margo, Kristen, Marjorie, Rose Marie…on and on).
I’ve found a thriving artists community that has a long and storied history from Ginsberg’s beats back to The Hudson River Valley School and before that, settlers and, of course, native Americans artisans.
Recently, I’ve gotten to know one of the rag tag gypsies, the tall one with the long hair, the one with the tattoo on his bicep, the one with the sexy smile, the one who can repair a stove when the mice have taken over, the one who can play guitar, sing like an angel, chase me like the devil, the one who is sweet sweet sweet…he is a handyman if there ever was one.
The beauty and fun of this place never ceases to thrill me.
Just shipped 5 limited editions to Putnam, CT, today!
The Empty Spaces Project – Putnam, CT, Artist reception, Sept 13.
See you there?
All artwork at Lovely. Please contact Liz Shaw.
It would be Lovely to see you at Lovely!
“Make your ego porous. Will is of little importance, complaining is nothing, fame is nothing. Openness, patience, receptivity, solitude is everything.”
~Rainer Maria Rilke
For D. D.k. Crawford…the story of Chevy’s return home.
Chevy disappeared this past Thursday as I was walking him, I had dropped his leash for a minute to look for my grandmother’s ring, which was refashioned from my grandfather’s platinum and diamond hat pin (he was a dandy back in the day), the ring had gone missing near the creek, probably broke when I scaled the walls of the creek, earlier in the day).
No ring and when I looked up from my search, no Chevy. He had disappeared into the tall grasses around us- we’ve had so much rain he could just poof, disappear. He likes to mosey off to look for fun creatures, I wasn’t too worried as he always reappears, in 10 minutes or an hour, he always comes back.
One time he flushed a deer from this very spot, he chased close to her heels as she zigged and zagged, trying to shake him. She crossed the road and jumped a fence. So did he. I could hear heavy breathing as she plunged into the woods 30 acres away. He came back ten minutes later, heaving and breathing heavy, himself.
But this time, he didn’t come back. I called and called. My son and I searched until 2am. No Chev. That night, I was lying in bed when I heard his bark, it was 3 am. I went outside and called, no Chev. I sat out there for an hour, he never barked again.
Next day, more searching, the hills and woods held no clues. We expanded miles past our home, nothing. We made flyers, we called pounds and vets. Friday at 3 am that bark again, I went outside again, called and fell silent, hoping to hear him again, I was trying to get a read on where the bark was coming from. No more barking.
Saturday morning, I was up early, walking towards where I believed the bark was from, behind Tim’s barn. My neighbor, Margo had heard it, too. No luck. All day Saturday there were false sightings. I drove for miles, handing out flyers. A woman had seen him an hour from here. Someone on the next road had heard barking.
I knew these weren’t him. He is a wanderer, not an escapee, he comes home, an hour tops, and he keeps his circle close to home, even on the trail of a deer, nipping at a deer’s heels, he will circle back in a bit when he is worn out. I was devastated. I was sure, despite the barks, he was gone.
My fear was his leash was caught and he was strangled in a panic to escape. This deep sorrow was actually, I believe, the realization of how much I love this guy, how much he has been my touchstone for the past two years of my journey into the middle of nowhere. How much I need this guy. We aren’t done, I kept thinking, please.
He is my photographer’s assistant. Every meaningful photo I have taken, save the past few days, he has been by my side. A gorgeous close up of his eye was my first test photo for the aluminum prints I have had so much success with. He is a subject in all of my photography shows. He is in every image, in spirit.
Despite being sure he was gone, my feet wouldn’t stop walking the woods and the fields he loves so much. About to give up, I gave it one more walk, an hours walk, no luck. Returning home, behind Tim’s barn, I heard a bark. I stood on a hill and looked at his barn, I texted Connor, come back, I hear him, he’s here, meet me at Tim’s barn. I scoured the barn with my eyes, calling his name. No answer. I got closer, I called and called. Is he in there? It is a behemoth of an old barn, you could lose an elephant in there.
A bark! The burdock in front of me, down the hill towards the barn rustled, shook and I called again, it shook harder, he is there! Chevron! You are ALIIIIIIIIIVE, I yelled, My baby lives!
I fought my way through giant weeds to the burdock, he was their wagging and wriggling and licking my face as I unspooled his mangled leash from the base of the giant weed. Nearby was the gopher hole he’d been trying to reach.
Oh my god, I love this guy.
He dragged me to the creek, joyously flying through weeds for his first full drink of water in 3 days. And, relief.
That is the story.