Treatments

Processing makes a difference.  I mean, yesterday's picture was dull, listless. . . awful.  But look what a little post-production can do.  The subject stands out.  It wasn't really awful at all.  And maybe it is better if it is paired with.

This medium closeup, though, is much the better picture.  It tells the better story, I think.

Now the horrible secret--it was all post-processed with a standard filter package.  Anyone can buy it.  That got me to thinking about such things.  Does it matter?  Every technical thing that went into that picture was made by someone else--the camera, lens, film, scanner, computer, software--all of it.  So maybe that is o.k.  Maybe the thing is choosing the aesthetic to match the subject.  I still have a lot of thinking to do, and I have some ideas about subverting the system so that I can manipulate it more on my own so that each treatment will be unique to the picture.  It will be a lot more work, of course, but that is the thing, isn't it?  It is not supposed to be easy.

Anyway, I don't find it easy to walk up to people in the street and take photographs.  There is something to be said about the effort there.

Of course, I am whining too much.  Any whining is too much, so I've gone way overboard.

Yesterday was the fifth day of my five day weekend.  I was alone with no one to help me work, and I immediately slipped back into my own slothful habits.  Late morning gym.  Half an hour in the sun by the pool.  A shower and lunch at one of the popular restaurants off the Boulevard.  A trip to the hardware store for things needed to continue working on the house.  Hanging around the house watching videos on how to do home repair and maintenance  (I think I now know how to put a railing on the deck and build a fence with a gate). . . a glass of wine, some cleaning of the study that amounted to reading through old letters and documents.  Today it is back to factory life.  I can feel it's weight on my back.  Even gardening, cleaning, and repairing is more creative; however, it doesn't pay the bills.  And so, master and servant, I return to that which feeds me.