There Was Once a Monsoon in My Lagoon

I woke up to a pretty good thunderstorm last night. I can’t remember the time, but it was well past my bedtime, so I took pictures. Lots and lots of pictures.
I’m going to be a little fried, today.

These are all cell-phone pictures, and they’re all lit entirely by the lightning from the storm. I don’t really know what accounts for the difference in color between them.


According to the count on the camera, I shot 226 pictures to get these. They were the best of the lot, and I know I couldn’t have done this with a film camera.


That’s a Ginkgo tree in my yard, just in case the thought of asking crossed anybody’s mind.


The blue one is one of my favorites… and I really don’t have any idea why it wound up blue. We also had some reddish-orange flashes of lightning, but I didn’t get lucky with those. You can almost see my neighbors’ house at the bottom. They were out storm chasing. The lunatics!!! (In this context, Lunatic should be understood to mean anyone whose vehicle is taller than mine, and therefore was able to be out in the storm. Pretty sure this would have stopped my engine.)


So, yeah. This is me standing by the front window in a thunderstorm, clicking away as fast as I could. I got these—and they’re pretty much the immediately recognizable, dramatic ones. I might be able to tinker around and get something useable out of a few of the others, but they didn’t wind up with the same clarity out of the box.

Right around seven full rolls of film. I would probably have missed a lot of these, or even all of them, if I’d been wasting time reloading. Not to mention the expense of film, and processing.

Sunlight on Ice Storm

We had an ice storm the other day. Not much of one, in my opinion. The combination of just-below freezing weather and massive quantities of de-icer means that the big roads were pretty well perfect. Some of the section roads were impassable for a while, either because of the ice, or because of downed tree branches.

Don’t tell my friends–some of them live on those section roads, and aren’t done swearing, yet–but I thought it was beautiful.

I went out and took pictures. A little off the beaten track, and some of where I went, it really was slick. I only fell once, though. And my phone may have skidded twenty or thirty feet on the ice and landed in a puddle. But here are some of the best ones.

 

I’m not sure I caught the real, sparkly majesty of the thing. I think maybe that’s more the result of sunlight hitting it as you move.

A Brisk Walk Through The Pouring Rain

I walked to work this morning. Then, I turned around and walked back from work this afternoon. I am not an exercise person. I don’t mind the fresh air and the nature, though. I saw a few wild turkeys, and took some pictures (Not of the turkeys. Those suckers move fast!) and someone stopped to ask if I was okay. That’s a new one. Usually, it’s Do you want a ride?  This was a straight up, Are you okay? So, I’m guessing that wandering around in the rain taking pictures for a blog is another one of those activities that… well… maybe city people do.

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Here’s my creek again.

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I could probably touch up some of those trees. A little more exposure would do them good.

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Yep. That road is every bit as long as it looks.

Not too bad for a bunch of pictures off a camera phone. It did eventually wind up raining properly. Hurricane dying out a few hundred miles inland?

I got in probably a little over six miles and a full day’s work plus early morning writing, and I’m still waiting for that “feeling good” thing to kick in. Right now, exhausted, and about to pass out is a little more accurate.

But is It Art?

I work with one of those creative types. Always fidgeting with something crafty. Suzy Home-maker putting flowers and bees on chairs and bookshelves. I keep running into that question: What is art? And it bounces around in my mind. There’s a part of me that thinks it’s wholly a matter of taste. Whatever makes you happy, Baby.

And there’s a part of me that rebels against the idea that the flowers she paints on her kids’ toy boxes are in the same category as the Sistine Chapel.

Seriously? Bees wearing sunglasses? Next, you’ll be telling me your grocery list is literature. You know. Just like Dante.

Deer Skull, shadowed

Bambi Contemplates Death

 

Here is my latest project, or at least, one that’s currently running. This is a deer skull. And for those of you who are wondering, it’s a humanely sourced deer skull.

For those of you who are wondering, now, that means she looked more or less exactly like this when I found her.

She’s been hanging out by my shed, trying to lose those last few pesky ounces of soft tissue.

In the end, I think I’ll probably wind up incising the skull, maybe doing something to make the designs pop, and then sell the product. In the meantime, we have photography. Personally, I think the photography comes closer to “art” than the arts and crafts end of it, but the arts and crafts will probably pay better.

deer skull, sunlight

Slightly more cheerful version. Perhaps she has hope for the future?

 

wind-energy windmill. White.

Windmill in Iowa

Here is a picture of a windmill. I’m actually nearly as much in love with these windmills–and more specifically, the blades, which you can’t get a good look at in this picture–as I am with inter-modal shipping. The blades are so sleek, and elegant, and beautiful, it’s hard to believe they aren’t art.

 

Evil bug looking thing

Coincidental Supervillain

Here is a villainous bug-man primed to take over the universe. I like him. I like him enough that I took a picture of him, as soon as I found him. But there’s no volition behind him. No purpose. He’s just an ink-blot in sugar glaze that fell on my trouser leg while I was working.

But if he isn’t art…

And I don’t see how he could be…

Can the photograph of him be art?

 

 

 

klynnextra And then, here’s an old one… something that got labeled “Christmas Tree” when I used it in last year’s Advent Calendar, but which was actually painted in the summer, without a thought of Christmas in mind.

One of my paintings. Something that happens to be in my media library, anyway.

Something I like. It suits my tastes. I enjoyed painting it.

But I still look at it and wonder, how good does it have to be to be art?