Anemone

I was excited to see the first anemone bloom in my own flower garden. I didn’t want to cut the flower and “take” the picture, so I experimented with ways to receive the picture in its natural environment. In the early evening, I tried placing a large piece of white paper behind the plant as a background. This gave some really interesting shadows as the last of the day’s sunlight came from the front, directly onto the bloom. The next day, early in the morning, I placed my black cardboard background behind the plant. The light in the morning is softer so there were no shadows on the background. But the flower had less “pop” and the image seemed a little flat, so I converted the picture to black and white to give more contrast. This result was lovely and kind of romantic in an understated way.

I think the color version of the anemone may well find its way into my florilegium project. We’ll see . . .

The Clarity of Black and White

I’ve been tossing around the idea of working with black and white images. I am especially intrigued with the possible ways that color and black and white images might work together in the same body of work. Would this be abrupt and unsettling? Or would the black and white images add an element of surprise and joy? Maybe the black and white images would ground the work, connect the color images to the universal process of seeds to blooms?

These are the kinds of questions that call for creative connection. It can be lonely and limiting working through these considerations all by myself. Having someone to talk through these questions, someone to give a fresh perspective, someone to teach and advise, and encourage. This is what I feel like I need. I’ve signed up for mentoring sessions with an incredibly gifted artist, Sal Taylor Kydd. We’ll start our work together next week, and I am eagerly anticipating the process. This is an investment in myself.

Find the Value in the Making

“If you’d quit the moment the reward didn’t show up, you’d have quit a long time ago. You’re still here. Still making things. That’s not because you’re winning an imaginary (or real) prize. It’s because some part of you loves the doing, and that’s the most important part we must protect. ”
— Wesley Verhoeve

Working On It . . .

This project has taken several unexpected turns. I did not expect to spend my summer traipsing along Virginia back roads to small flower farms. I did not expect to spend so many days dreaming of ways to photograph flowers. Ways that feel fresh and yet not contrived. For much of my life, buying fresh flowers felt like a kind of luxury I could not afford, and often like a waste of money since they die anyway. I cringe now when I hear those thoughtless words—discounting beauty and joy as though they need to earn their place in this world. I was wrong. It is the very fact that flowers bloom fiercely and perish quickly that makes them worth noticing. I did not expect to change my mind; I did not see that photographing the flowers might become my own fertile soil for growth.

Next up, I am planning to learn to press flowers. I wonder if I could make a simple pressed flower arrangement on white paper and photograph it for the book. Or, and this might be even better, I could print a blank page in the book and affix the pressed flowers to that page (I would need to separate this page with acid free vellum). I also want to learn a bit about making paper collages from a local artist. I think it might be fun to add a collage to the project, something that celebrates texture and color and light. Hmm . . . I love this part of any project, the thinking and brainstorming, and the unfolding. I’ll keep you posted on how things are going.