In a flicker

Unimaginable the depth of down. Down in spirit. Down in mind. Down. What brings such down on?
Combinations. Like daily turning the tumblers. The safe opens. It is empty. The long turning for nothing.
Sameness. Routine. Thoughts. Dreams.Desires.Fears. Futures. Pasts. They come rushing. Walking.
A hollow being. Doing what is always done. Getting the same result. Fuzzy when sharpness is desired. Cannot get the right settings. Do not have the right settings. All a flicker.

You got it. Wednesday, January 15th. The daily walk along the trails of Alligator Lake. There was Brian again. Like a Truman scene. Deja vu. It has been done. A re-run. The same cypress. The same egrets. Coots. Hawks. The same focus. The same out of focus. The same struggle. The same composition. The only variable was in the clouds. Today, all of mans making from jet streams. Under-expose, over-expose, flash on, flash off. Yadda Yadda Yadda.

Back to the computer. Pop in the cord. Download to Picassa. Cheap mans Adobe. Limited manipulation. Lack of raw. Jpeg. Lazy. Unimaginative. Facebook driven. Ten or less likes. Is it any wonder? And so it goes.

Poor flicker was over manipulated as a result. This mostly stems from seeing another photographers work on Facebook, the Russian lady with the photographs of her children with farm animals. Absolutely amazing and beautifully done. The Canon full frame Mark 2 that every photographer of any meddle uses. She with a 135mm. Interesting in that when I first got started in the early 70's(I should be a master by now) that was my first and only lens.

As I have been saying all this year that I turn 59. This is it. It is getting down to the too late. To the wire. To the no turning back. To the do or die. The final act. The about time you do something. And I look for some lottery like salvation to come along and in a moment, in an instant, make all things well, successful, right.
It will never happen. I will die in the process. And the Flicker will fly to another rotten tree.

Croft's hearth

It was the last set of photographs from the long day of January 11th. I was about home on Columbia County Road 241 near the Family Road when I spotted the lone chimney off to my right on Dicks Road. I drove over and a fellow was working with his puppy in his front yard. I asked him if he minded if I took a photograph of the old chimney. He said go ahead. I climbed the gate and took about two dozen quickly, working around the curious black angus cows. I returned and asked the young fellow who lived in it. He said his grandparents, his mothers people, the Crofts. His dad was a Johnson. He said the old house had recently been torn down. I thanked him and started to shake his hand but he said he didn't want to get blood on me. What in the world was he training that puppy for?

Neighborly Emergency

Last evening late, nearly one AM, the Rescue vehicle quietly drove into Mrs Duncan's yard. I waited quietly outside to see if she had passed away. But fortunately, though in much pain, she walked to the porch where they put her on the stretcher. I trust whatever occurred, that she will recover.
She is our neighborhood prayer warrior, saying a prayer for us each morning when she walks the little sausage dog to get the mail.

Crossing Points

Sat down at the Gateway Gallery today from 1 until 5. As a participating gallery member, we are required to volunteer 8 hours per month or 2 four hour shifts. I got no sales but one compliment, a visitor telling me he liked the photograph, Where the Circle Met of the Circle church, the only print I have sold.
But, this past three month span, I have sold zero so I go 45 in the hole, the amount the 4x8 space rents for the time.
I do believe when the end of the month arrives, unless I sell anything, I will not continue this venture.
Like Mrs Zecher said today, anybody can take a photo, you have to do something extra special.
What would that extra special be? Larger size, better frame, different subject matter?
I think the displaying of art and photography is a thing of the past. The only thing on our walls are mostly our own faces and our own family. Even the poorly composed shot will go up before one will purchase a fine print. The images are now the realm of the computer and television. A continous roll.
In the meantime, the Gallery Board of Directors have made the decision to relocate downtown. That is a good move that should have been from the beginning. It should help build the foot traffic which is so lacking now. During the Olustee Festival it was gain great exposure.
And with Olustee upcoming, as I have said over and over, I need a presence there. Large,well-done photographs framed in grand double matted archival type paper.
Which leads to the next bridge. A job. All is fine and well if one can afford it. In my case, I am doing well just to purchase 11x14 frames with 8x10's printed on my own Kodak printer.
Hardly worth it.

Palm Reader

Posted this today, saying, I miss my friends who would laugh while getting me out of my messes. And messes I did get into as a FPL meter reader for a year. The job was only for a year and a month, coming to an end as the Smart meters were finally installed, cutting the meter reading force down to a few of the long timers.
Safety and speed were the oil and vinegar under which we mixed. Often in my haste, I would make rash decisions that proved costly. This was one such incident that took two vehicles to get me out. The fellows were always good natured about it,me being the old guy who needed help, the source of much ribbing.
But, there is ribbing and good ribbing. This ribbing I could take.
It was the ideal job for the time it lasted. Suited my personality to a tee. Out and about, reading a route, seeing countless photo possibilities. Being there when weather changed, when things happened.
After the first few months of total confusion and frustration, like Bill said, things did improve greatly.
It was pure joy in the fall to walk the route downtown and in the neighborhoods, making friends along the way.
Today, January 14th, Melanie is about to go to Gainesville to a dermatologist to get her big toe checked she thinks has a melanoma due to radiation from 2009 H1N1 ordeal. We pray not.
I am to work at the gallery from 1-5, otherwise I would go with her.
We wound up ordering Kens BBQ last evening instead of going out to Longhorn. We were still full from the Shirley's we had at lunch. It is raining steady here and so the gallery will be a slow venture.
Peace out.

A Winsome Proposal

It was Saturday around noon and the wind was blowing in off Newnan's Lake Park in a vicious way.
This couple was off to my right trying to take wedding proposal photographs.

Smitten with Jeanie

 

 

 

The Marriage of Figerow...

Before the stern man took unto him a bow partner, it was just him and his sit inside kayak.
Solo voyeur upon a sea of possibility.
Lots of fish within that sea.
Then one day upon the sea of tranquility drifts a damsel in a Dagger
and to his heart the double-blade goes..
Soon he is all about Kevlar and cruising in the
Wee-no-ah
Together with his bow partner
Bent blade doing that J-stroke
Tracking a straight line
As she lies back working upon the tan line.
And as the wealth increases
Its each man to himself
matching kayaks
each carrying his own load
then its
 on to outboards and sundecks
and pontoons and deep waters
and grandsons and sun burns
All was bliss
Yet something is missed
The years go by
The job dries up
kids no longer paddle
Too young for pasture
For solace you return to water
Carolina Skiff long since sold
Downsized to keep from going under
Too stiff for the sit-in
Your thoughts return to beginning again
This beginning though not so bad
for it takes little money
You find yourself again wealthy
For you invested long ago
in a sixteen foot canoe
and it stayed with you
though all the other vessels did go
So you re-stain the old bent shaft
bending branches blade
re-cane the seats
brush up on the J stroke
To begin again your maiden voyage
Tan lines deep and bronzed beautiful.

Sad Reality

It is a sad realization to realize, most people just don't share your interests, your likes?
It came to my realization when I posted the You Tube duet from the two Stephen Foster Jeanie and Stephen winners, and it got zero likes, that people are just not interested.
And true, most of the people in attendance yesterday at the Stephen Foster Day were well into their seventies and above.  Dreamers from another era soon to fade the scene.
And yet, the entertainers young and alive, with the old folks of home enjoying them. And where were the youth? Not to be found, only the few children tugged along by granny.
I often think into the far future as with nostalgia the old folks gather around the young artist who plays the hand controller with such artisty, dazzling again the gamers who once played so deftly.

Only One

Son, even God gave Solomon many wives and concubines
But a mother, he only gave one
You need to love the one
Who loved you before you were born.

And so another birthday comes and still the silence from Landon persists. To be so close to his mother growing up, to be so far from her now continues to baffle me.
I can only image the pain Melanie feels, for even hard old me even pines for my old daddy, crazy as he was to us.
Family can be crazy and say things loudly.
Where else in this world can we be this way?
Please God, let it not be in death that draws Landon back this way, but in a loving drawing sent
from you.

Where eagles gather

Still basking in the sounds that came from the Stephen Foster Day at the Folk Cultural Park in White Springs. Like Johnny said, Stephen Foster Memorial. There was a one hour concert in the Bell tower. It began with a playing manually of the tower bells, followed by Johnny Bullard leading us in the state song, Old Folks at Home, substituting brothers for darkies....
There was a hippie type fellow with the tell-tale stickers on his dulcimer case playing Foster songs. His name was Michael Vickey. Next Jan Krautheim played with him on the piano and guitar.
Then came the high light of the day, the singing of the 2014 Jeanie and Stephen contest winners, Amanda Caban and Alexander Solomon. We got to know Alexander before the show began as Melanie and I helped him cinch up his too big tux pants with a safety pin. I told him the lame joke, you need to quit dreaming of Jeanie. He sighed.
They sang individual and the last song together. It is all on my You Tube at john33stokes.
Johnny finished the program by singing Beautiful Dreamer.
Following were fine refreshments. Melanie, Meme and I drove about the town and countryside before making our way back to Lake City and reality.

White Springs

Today is Sunday, January 12. Tomorrow Melanie will have a birthday. Today after church we hope to travel over to White Springs for the two o'clock Stephen Foster Day. We do not know what to expect but will go.
White Springs is one of my favorite little towns in the area.
I am still caught in the thoughts from yesterday and the trip down to view and photograph the Sand Hill Cranes out on Whitehurst's property at Wacahoota. Then the drive down 320 to Micanopy, stopping frequently as turkey or cracker houses came. It is an area that exudes old Florida.
The thoughts from yesterday invariable return to if only I had this lens or that setting to make the shots better. No second takes. So important to get it correct the first time. Like life. So important to get it right the only time we have to get it right.

And we are only good as yesterday's rhyme
Forgotten as around the bier we pine
And what of the words he long spoke
Was he taken for but a stammering joke
The works seemed as precious gold
But fire revealed them wood rotten and old
With a brass lantern he held his light
And as he tried to prime away the night
The glass globe hot and dark with smut
Forgotten he was as the lid was shut.