This is why I love photography so much, and in particular why I love my macro lens: I can take something as simple, as old and calcified as a little tap in a greenhouse, and make it pretty.
It is what I think of as accidental art, although it’s really not accidental at all.
We were walking along the shore of the lake and my son called out to me that he had found sea glass. I thought for sure it was a jagged piece of glass, leftover from a broken bottle, but in his hand was a softened, sanded piece of “sea” glass. I could believe it.
When we left the Maritimes, I thought I was leaving my sea glass searching days behind. Yet here was a piece of glass so similar to sea glass I’d never know the difference. And if there was one, there must be more.
Sure enough, as we walked we spotted more. I came home with a small handful of glass, including a yellow piece, to add to my collection.
It may not be from the sea, but it’ll do.
Love is everywhere… (And so is art.)
Even on a concrete bench.
I have to be more creative, more observant to find pictures in the winter.
(I’m not a fan of the cold.)
Sitting at my kitchen table, I noticed that these placemats caught the light and created interesting patterns that might be fun to photograph.
I was right.
The sunlight, streaming through the pergola, through the window, gives my curtains a new pattern: Stripes.
As I mentioned yesterday, I am a firm believer that art can be found in the most unusual places.
My daughter used her own money to buy a makeup kit, and she’s been carrying it around the house for a few days now. (She’s only allowed to wear it when we aren’t going anywhere.) When she opened it in the light of the dining room, I noticed how pretty the palette of shadows was.
When I began photographing it, I kept a good part of the makeup sharp. But as I played around with the focus, I decided I liked how it looked better when I deliberately blurred the palette: Makeup kit becomes abstract art.
Most people wouldn’t get excited about finding a rotten log with rusty nails sticking out.
But I do.
I see the picture possibilities when I look at something like this. I see the colours and the textures, the lines and the shapes, the combination of materials that makes for a great composition. I see the story it tells.
This is not just a rotten log with nails sticking out.
Sometimes art can be found in the most unexpected places.
While working at one of the schools today, the custodian stopped to have a chat. She pointed out the glimmering floors that she had just waxed in the library, and I immediately noticed the beautiful reflections and interesting composition for a photo. I took this shot with my phone, but found myself wishing for my camera.
(Although it might have seemed a bit strange for the librarian to be crawling around snapping photos of the floor tiles.)