voyeur/surveillance

I suppose being a voyeur is an intrinsic part of being a photographer who likes to take less formal images focused (pun intented) on the casually observed. I mention Eggleston a lot in conversations about photography and it's a skill that he has sharply honed. Every photograph gives the viewer the anonymity coveted by the voyeur, the ability to sit and stare, to study the details, to linger on that which may be impolite or improper to notice in polite company.

This photograph is about being a voyeur but more about the act of voyeurism. It's an attempt to capture the act of voyeurism or surveillance, not about what is being observed or the observer. It's the inbetween space, the action, not that act or the actor. I don't want to take a photograph of William Eggleston, I want to take a photograph of his camera, or even better, if it were possible, I would like to take a photograph of the light entering his camera.

I've been feeling a little directionless lately when it comes to photography. I suspect this will be a part of an ongoing project.

ideas

So often it's not about the light but about the absence of light. Is it possible to take photographs of the voids?



And trees. I've taken these pictures before, some seven years ago even. Perhaps I will see if I can find them.

I've been in a funk lately. I might have been looking forward to the excuse of oppressive and incessant Vancouver rain but it's been sunny more often than not. The snow at Christmas stuck around for the better part of two weeks because of the lack of rain. There's still hints of it along many side streets, snow banks clinging to curbs.

Is there an equivalent to writer's block for photographers?

The last time I took a photo every day it seemed to sap my energy from time to time. Is the same happening now?

I don't know. But in the mean time Jennilee Marigomen is a good way to spend some time. And maybe I'll find a photograph today. Or maybe not.

Burrard Bridge

I spent some time walking around the other day. I'm usually walking across the Burrard bridge but this day I was on the Granville bridge and got a somewhat unique view crossing over False Creek.

doors

The idea of individual expression when manifesting itself in two identical buildings is amusing.

Fleeting moments

I'm not one for taking photographs of flowers. These particular flowers though, they were planted by someone who is about to step away from my life. She's a wonderful person and I'll miss her dearly. But I can't help but think these flowers are a metaphor for our relationship. These flowers spring from bulbs that precariously perch themselves atop a small handful of stones and a drop of water and they grow at an alarming rate. Today they grew somewhere around 3 inches or so. Incredible. And they produce these beautiful flowers for a few days and then they die. You pop the bulbs back into whatever cloth sack you might find handy and wait again until next year.

I've known Sabina for essentially a year and she's a good egg. I'll miss her.

open

Sometimes the pictures just don't fit in with anything else.