like a song...

Inspiration is a funny thing.

I've been feeling a little dry since I got back from TO. Like I have used up my reserve of creative thought, lost my muse, or whatever else it is that sparks an artist to create. I haven't felt this way in a while. It has been a little disconcerting.

Then I was invited to an open mic night.

Now, I've never really done an open mic night before (unless you count the classic campfire confessional), but for whatever reason I got really excited about this. So I pulled out my guitar for the first time in months and started to play. I figure I can contribute either a song, some slam poetry or a stand-up routine, and of those three I think a song will be the least embarrassing.

It was quickly apparent that I only know about 5 chords. And that writing music is really hard. And that you lose the callouses on your fingers when you don't play for a while (seriously, the tips of my fingers feel like they've been attacked by extraordinarily vicious rodents). But I had a blast. I've always liked the guitar, and I've always wondered what could have been had I, at age 13, chosen the guitar instead of drums.

Guitars are, by and large, way cooler than drums. Guitar players definitely get more attention (or more accurately, attention from girls) than drummers, so one would think that any thirteen year-old boy would naturally choose guitar. I was rather introverted as a kid though, and I think the drums appealed to me because I could hide in the back of the stage*.

But for now the drums are over at my brother's house while I am here, attempting to incorporate a Cmaj7 into my song somewhere. It would be a shame to waste 20% of my guitar knowledge.

8.5.08. Cropped to 3X5

*I vaguely remember this being the same reason that Jughead was the drummer of The Archies, and sure enough, it was confirmed by Wikipedia. Yay for crowd-sourcing.

drowning man

Rain and I have a love-hate relationship. Mostly hate.

Rain meant getting splatters up your back from the bicycle tire. Rain meant sitting through an entire school day with wet socks. Rain meant standing in a boat sopping wet and cold while that kid refused your coaching and continued to stand up on his wakeboard too soon, resulting in him falling flat on his face, over and over again.

But like most things, rain and I have had our good times, and there are a few instances that stand out in my mind.

When I was in elementary school we had next-door neighbours with kids about the same age as us. They had a trampoline, and we had free reign to go jump whenever we wanted to. Once when I was about 13 we had a one of Kelowna's wicked summer storms, where the air was so hot and the sky so dark you could feel something ominous brewing.

The skies cracked open as I bounced up and down. The rain fell so hard it knocked apples off of the tree in our back yard, but I remember feeling shock at how warm the rain was. As I stomped the black canvas over and over and over again, the evening sun hit the seam between the clouds and the mountains, casting a brilliant beam of light over the valley that caught each drop from the side and sent shimmering colour everywhere. I kept jumping until I collapsed in exhaustion, and the warm water began to pool around me as I lay and stared at the sky.

It rained for a couple of days during my recent trip to Toronto. Because I was cycling everywhere (as previously mentioned, I despise the splatter that comes with mixing pedaling and precipitation), I decided to hide in the caffe until it stopped. It didn't, so I left the bike chained up and headed off in search of an umbrella. Maybe it was because I had nowhere to go, but I found myself enjoying my walk through the rain, watching the wipers on cars and the brightly coloured slickers on children. It was strange, how I could find pleasure in something I used to hate so much*.

It rained like crazy today, that same incessant pounding that usually only comes around in the summer. Still sore from my urban adventure, I lay in the hot tub with the water up to my neck and cold spring rain pouring down my face. As I sat soaking, my love for the rain, so recently rekindled, came back like a flood.

Yes. That pun was completely intended.

*Come to think of it, this is also exactly what has happened with broccoli, musical theatre and wearing glasses. My likes and dislikes have completely changed over the years.

7.5.08. Slightly increased exposure.

if you wear that velvet dress

I am actively pursuing spontaneity.

By nature I tend to be extremely careful in everything I do. I rarely speak up without seriously thinking about what I want to say. I'll plan out my day/week/month well in advance, to the point where very little of what I do is left to chance. This has served me pretty well; organized is a nice way to live, and my internal filter has kept me from saying things I probably would have regretted.

Of course, there are the drawbacks that come with it. Predictability. Over analysis to the point of paralysis.

Photography has been a really good exercise for me. The vast majority of my pictures have been impromptu rather than staged because, unless you really know what you are doing, staged pictures tend to look tacky and boring. And I hate tacky and boring.

The spontaneity is what I like about this picture. Instead of a boring picture where everyone is looking at the camera with forced smiles, there is genuine warmth and joy in the frame. I'm want that authenticity and genuineness to be a regular part of my life. Thus, I have made the conscious decision to begin trusting my instincts (which have served me well so far) and acting on their impulse.

We'll see how it turns out.

9.12.07. Cropped to 3X5.

is that all?

I've decide to activate comments on this blog.

One of the surprises of my photographic journey is discovering how people react differently to my pictures. Oftentimes I will post what I think is just an okay picture, and it will generate a huge reaction. I then have to go back and look at it again, and will invariably discover something that I didn't see initially.

I'd like to apply this same concept here. What I see in my pictures and in my life is well documented. What do you see?

Please join the conversation.

Note: this is me being spontaneous (see future post).

elvis presley and america

I became a photographer by accident.

Before last summer, I had never actually owned a real camera. I liked the idea of photography, but like anything else, it requires a certain amount of capital to get started. When the employer announced that they were sending the entire staff down to Los Angeles, I knew this was my excuse.

With this motivation I bought a Canon Rebel XTi with an EF-S 18-55mm, the most efficient entry into the quasi-professional photography game. Imagine passing your roadtest and immediately purchasing a Volkswagen GTI; you'll initially be a bit overwhelmed, but will quickly discover what driving should feel like.

Purchasing the camera before going on a trip was the best idea I ever had. Not only was I motivated to capture the trip itself, I wanted to learn everything my new toy could do. After a few days of learning the ropes, I found the sweet spot the night we walked along Hollywood Boulevard.

What I find remarkable about this picture is how well it was composed without me consciously doing so (I certainly didn't know what I was doing). It's asymmetrical and balanced all at once, the colours are rich, the subjects are all looking in different directions, it's nicely framed by the palm tree on one side and the pillar on the other. I couldn't have posed this picture if I tried.

I count myself lucky that I was able to capture this moment as well as I did. And it gave me the confidence that yes, I had the skills to do this.

This was really the beginning.

24.8.07. No alterations.