Silence Of the World
Last January in Jackson, Michigan
photography
Shoot for the Moon
“If you adopt that notion of linear progress, if you expect that your life will just be one straight rocketship to the moon, you will be so disappointed and disoriented when you fall off course, when a tank explodes, when the moon moves and it turns out to not be where you plotted.” – Austin Kleon, in a great Twitter thread.
Amen. I think about how, as we settle into winter, I take fewer photos this time of year. It happens every January, and I know this slow, quiet season is coming.
The thing is: do you accept the season, or try to rebel? Often I’ll pick up a different creative project in the winter – photographer interviews, say – and when spring blooms, I get started on photography projects in earnest. Summer, with it’s light and long days, provides more opportunities to make actual photographs. Toward autumn, I fall in love with the weather and the landscape and the light, and create some of my favorite work.
What am I up to? Depends on the time of year.
In Case of Fire
I heard a story on NPR about the victims of the Camp Fire out in California returning to their unburned homes, finding everything they own still in its place – just as it was they day they left in early November.
That story made me think of what I would do in case our home ever caught fire. There’s the old trope about grabbing the photo albums. Photo albums, the thinking goes, are the only irreplaceable items.
For me, I’d grab the kids, my diabetes kit, and my backup hard drive. That’s where all my photos live.
Yes, I still have photo albums. I cherish them. But a few years ago I scanned all my old childhood photos and backed them up in several locations: Aperture, a backup drive, and Flickr. I would only the grab the backup hard drive by my desk to grab the few photos I don’t have backed up somewhere else.
This may be a good time for an annual reminder: back up your photos, keep them in a safe spot, and keep multiple copies.
I set a reminder to backup my iPhone photos, too, at least once a month. Just in case.
In case of a fire, I’d still be worried about all my photographs – but maybe not as worried as I used to be.
Lost Kitten
Usually we don’t get out to the Christmas tree farm until much later – sometimes right at dark. But the last few years we’ve made it a point to get there before the sun sets.
All that sunshine didn’t stop Madelyn from losing her stuffed kitten somewhere on the lot. We made a trip back to look for it, but no luck. That little orange Beanie Baby was lost in a forest of evergreens.
Then we got a call from the tree farm: they found the kitten.
Guess what will appear in Madelyn’s stocking this Christmas?
Contrary
I’m always rooting for the contrarian. If you have an idea or system that goes against the norm, I’m almost already on board.
That’s why Jason Fried and David Heinemeier Hansson’s book, It Doesn’t Have to Be Crazy At Work, was an instant buy for me. The founders of Basecamp, Jason and David run a successful software company and keep sane about it. No “sprints,” no 60 hour work weeks, no demanding work from their employees on weekends. The key word is calm.
It flies in the face of most of what you hear about the tech world. Everyone from startups to video game companies are working their staff to literal death. But it’s not just tech – plenty of businesses demand too much time and attention from their team members. I see it all the time.
In my younger days, I could handle a 50 or 60 hour week, easily. In fact, when my first company held a lot of community events, I gladly signed up for the overtime, since all that money ended up in my pocket. Now, though, it’s different: I have a family, obligations, and a house to maintain. That’s not to mention hobbies, some leisure time, maintaining friendships, and making progress on projects around the house.
I’m protective of my time. That’s why the ideas behind It Doesn’t Have to Be Crazy At Work were so appealing: making projects manageable, not constantly chasing after profit and growth, giving people time to consider big ideas and projects, valuing sleep and self care.
I lived one idea – four day work weeks during the summer – first hand at my first higher education job. There were two summers where we took Fridays off, and what a benefit. Time with my family, long weekends to take little vacations, opportunities to rest up before the craziness of the fall, when the students returned. Taking Fridays off didn’t bankrupt the business, or turn everyone into lazy slobs. It simply was, until August, and then it wasn’t. In most business environments, if you suggested taking Fridays off in the summer, you’d get laughed out of the office.
Like CJ Chilver’s A Lesser Photographer, the book offers some sanity in all the craziness. Where CJ’s book said don’t buy into the photography hype, Jason and David’s book says don’t buy into overworking. Buy, instead, into calm.
It’s contrarian, for good reason. It Doesn’t Have to Be Crazy At Work says there’s another way, a different way, worth trying.
Autumn Out Back
My co-workers thought I was crazy.
“I’m heading to the woods,” I said after lunch. “If I’m not back in a while, it’s been nice working with you all.”
The woods, they asked? Why?
Because. It’s right out back. At work, our headquarters sits in the middle of a beautiful, hilly forest, with little ponds and lakes all around us. I’ve been dying to get into those woods and explore – dying to get out and shoot, period.
No, the weather wasn’t nice, and no, the light wasn’t perfect. But if felt good to get out and tromp through the fallen leaves on a cool autumn day.
Then my Canon battery died, so I had to rely on my iPhone. Not that that matters.
I made it back by lunch hour’s end, a little wet and a lot refreshed.
Only What You Need
“Take only what you need to survive.” – Captain Lone Starr, Spaceballs
How much photography technique is too much?
Is it good enough to learn the techniques to be able to do what you want to do? To be able to say what you need to say?
What good is any more technique?
The liberal artist in me says learn all you can – simply for learning’s sake. I’m a lifelong self-educator. Part of me can’t help but dive into technique and tools and tips just because that’s how my brain works. It’s a sponge.
But then I hit a skill ceiling. I don’t need to learn much more about Photoshop, or exposure compensation, or lighting, because I have just enough to be able to express myself properly.
From here, with what I know now, the rest is just noise.
Textures of the Season
Out here, where the roads are named after the family farms, we slide into the quiet season.
It’s all warm colors here at Adams Farm: yellows and reds and oranges. A few greens, but mostly the rustic hue of autumn.
The textures are everywhere, from smooth pumpkins and apples to mottled squashes of every different shape and size.
We’re crazy about the foods of autumn. I could live on apples and squash, while the kids transform into sticky hornet magnets with cider and donuts. We wipe our hands of cinnamon and sugar, we feel for the rigid pumpkin stems, and we toss the bumpy buttercup from crate to wagon.
This is what we live for – the texture of the season.