Sandstone abstract, Kalaloch, May 2012

‘Terrazzo’ Bluffs, Kalaloch, May 2012

Alders, Lake Crescent, October 2011

Friday at the lake. This group of alders is a recurring subject. I’d like to say I haven’t gotten what I want here yet but the truth is I’m too numbly comfortable here to move on. It’s a relaxing place to be, and having a fussy-to-use camera justifies the lingering, if not the internal dialogues that sometimes bruise the silence, to the passing hikers and tourists on the trail above.

I was interrupted by a curious onlooker, undaunted by my frightful hair and incomprehensible murmurs. In typical fashion, I was startled at the level of exertion I needed simply to be polite. I’m not especially fond of people to begin with, and even less so when their curiosity about what I’m doing is clearly more important than what I’m actually doing, so I usually just say ‘Yes, yes’ whatever the question. ‘Is that a new electronic digital camera device/ does it only take black and white pictures/ how bout a snapshot of me with my family?’ ‘Yes, yes’ and go about what I’m doing while they pose and wait pointlessly and eventually wander off. I keep waiting for one of these encounters to erupt in violence, but other than some general harrumphing they never have the energy or interest to expand on the awkward silence. But the possibility of a brawl is somewhat stimulating after a quiet morning at the lake.

Evening Picnic, Rosario Strait, September 2011

Tree detail, Crescent Bay

Trees, Crescent Bay, May 2011

I’ve been watching the compilation Beckett on Film, and the work is echoing through both my night and daylight hours, thoughts both inert and restless. So maybe I had little choice but to stumble on trees banged up on a minimalistic stone stage, like Estragon’s blocking on some avant-garde set.

*Samuel Beckett,  when asked what color he wanted his gravestone.

Fence Limits, Clallam Bay, April 2011

I just paid a lot for a new monitor, finally something decent to replace the emergency LG flatscreen that I like bought at midnight at a 7-11 several years ago when my CRT finally knackered in.  Buying a monitor online is a little like buying a print on line. You know it’ll probably be good, but without any immediate tactile interaction it’s an uncomfortably abstract thing to throw a wad of money at.  At least with the LG I got to take a DVD of images along to test, and check out the setting and controls on the various monitors on display. But this purchase was all rumors and hope.

I laugh every time I see the thing sitting on my desk. Defensively. Even with a “pro” monitor like an Eizo there is always the anxiety of setting the thing up wrong, especially if its settings don’t reconcile at all with the settings of the old monitor.  Gamma, white point, color balancing, there are many subtle things that can go wrong and make your best-intended photo editing come off frightfully, embarrassingly wrong. Eventually you just have to trust that the calibration devices are working properly and the black level and gamma is set right and just get on with it.

Anyway, I notice my work  trying desperately to be less impressed with itself, and  just be more impressionable. Things evolve oddly with me, and slowly. I’ve come back to this little picnic area several times now in the past week and what I come away with seems so reflexively wrong on many levels. Intruding twigs and distracting shapes, too much fall off, truncated geometry, superfluous margins. But despite these reflexes it’s what seems good to me now, overall in a squinty head-tilting way, so I’ll explore  it more. But just to be clear my monitor is set up correctly- any glaring oddities or faults are intentional, and must be blamed on the taste or lack thereof  the management.

…now to just find away to bypass WordPress’s crappy jpeg compression defaults…

*apologies to Jim Jarmusch

Bench, Clallam Bay, April 2011

I’ve felt oddly mute and indifferent for the past few months, so with a bit of trepidation I’m starting to think out loud again. Not much to say yet, but maybe if I start the jaw moving something will happen.

This bench looks like it was used for perhaps a bit too much nameless seaside yearning. Can sympathize completely.

Picnic Grounds, Clallam Bay, April 2011

Nippon Mill from Crown Hill, March 2011