I enjoy taking a camera to weddings. I like to think that I'm annoying the "official" shooter by having the freedom to chase whatever I please rather than having to get all of the stock situations - cake, garter, first dance, blah, blah, blah. That said, I respect immensely what they do and stay out of their way. No way I'd take that on. It's not like you can look at the proofs and say "Oops! Bad light. We need to reshoot all of this. Next week good for you?"
The above, taken at a family wedding, is a perfect example of having both the freedom to find my own shots and latitude to deal with the Oops Factor. I had fun with the kids but the shot was horrific. Overflashed insanely. But, as I looked at the blown out raw, I loved the faces, could see the broad strokes, and prayed they'd be enough detail remaining. With a bit of digital tweaking, this image emerged. The flower girl and
For those of you new here and wondering where the fish are, this is a Photo Bin - my once a month (or so) examination of what's fallen out of the camera, unaccounted for in any real posts. Odds and ends, tidbits, any topic, things of interest - at least to me. Sometimes fishing. Oft' times, not-so-much.
Like, maybe, a submerged wine bottle - cheap wine, at that - bending and distorting the light as its original contents probably bent and distorted it's purchaser's grasp on his world, already misshapen by his liquid existence.
And the perfect home for an exhibitionist hermit crab.
Just up the point from our Long Island lodge, a beached Bahamian freighter, the Mara II, rusts into oblivion. Bright colors, dulled, then re-illuminated in oxidation and golden evening light. Texture on texture. One wonders where the Mara I lies; in what condition. And what of a III?
And fiberglass sinks too. We wandered the back channels of Nassau, on our way home, and blind-casted the waterways along docks, small shipyards, and empty lots. Quite a departure from wading the pristine sands of the flats, but bonefish pop up in the darndest of places and I hooked the biggest of the trip just off that sunken starboard stern, Sandy's aftermath.
But it's good to be home again, from far-away family trips and Bahamian beaches. On my return, our neighbor/friend/architect-of-our home asked that I take a couple of pictures around the place for something or another, and I happily obliged. In doing so, I realized that this southern exposure perfectly reflects the essence of our solar-focused abode.
Large windows, shaded in the summer with perfectly computed overhangs for our particular latitude, become portals for light as the sun drops in winter, heating the four-inch concrete slab flooring so that it radiates warmth throughout the evening hours. The panels on the roof are for hot water - completely sufficient through sunny stretches or, with the throw of a couple of valves and the flick of a switch, as pre-heat for a secondary gas heater. And to escape the heat, the shaded screened porch on the west side is simply the best room in the house.
Actually, I think I'll head out there right now.