The foreign language of film. The flesh tones were placed on Zone XI and the exposure was for 1/60 sec at f8. The Tri-X negatives were developed as usual in HC-110 dilution B or five minutes at 68 degrees. The print was made on Varigam paper, Grade 2(no filter), and developed two minutes in Dektol diluted 1:2. The face was dodged for about 25% of the total enlarging exposure.
Thursday, March 19, 2026
Primitive Camp
The old time foot washers
The tired ole Primitive campers
With the dirty, callous feet
Would stoop and truly weep
Following the Lord's example
Soon came the time shares
The condos by the beaches
Feet pedicured by Vietnamese
The ole Primitive Campers
Ne'er the ole bunions to bear.
Monday, March 16, 2026
33
Now that its been thirty three years since.... I really have come to miss....going into that office beneath the stairs....seeing the ole turkey feet paper clips...the gallery of familiar photographs.... hung from Sopchoppy to Monticello to Wilmore to Williston....the bald is beautiful sign...Goliath the boxer beneath the desk....flipping through the theology books.... the sound of cars across Noble stopping at Travis Station...the familiar smell of well-aged wood and carpet...these are the things I shall never forget.
IT
Itchetucknee Theology
by john clare
To be the first to heed the call
Come!
Dance upon the sweet water
Go where the Manatee knows
to the flow unending
strong and clear
Leap!
to the heaven leap
Tell those who dwell above
The sweet walk is below
deep beneath the shaky boat
Come!
Hear the heron call
to the passer by
Know!
Know you have come
to the source of sweet flow
take the uncreated hand
step on and simply
Know
Lips kissed
I sought to make a list
of all the lips I most missed
who left without e’en a kiss
but oh, how long the list.
Farewell
Farewell, old Coila’s hills and dales,
Her heathy moors and winding vales;
The scenes where wretched Fancy roves,
Pursuing past unhappy loves!
Farewell my friends! farewell my foes!
My peace with these, my love with those-
The bursting tears my heart declare,
Farewell, my bonie banks of Ayr.
The gloomy night is gathering fast
Robert Burns
47 since
Now that its been forty-seven years since.... I really have come to miss....going into that office beneath the stairs....seeing the ole turkey feet paper clips...the gallery of familiar photographs.... hung from Sopchoppy to Monticello to Wilmore to Williston....the bald is beautiful sign...Goliath the boxer beneath the desk....flipping through the theology books.... the sound of cars across Noble stopping at Travis Station...the familiar smell of well-aged wood and carpet...these are the things I shall never forget.
Monday metaphor
Moody Monday
They are the worst moments
These mid-March Mondays
Musing morbidly cursing my
Taming longing again for the
old purple shades of sin
Flesh wars raging in the warm
Golden morning light
The crow diving over the
Calm red-shoulder hawk
Making a metaphor for me
Sitting atop that pine
While Cat Stevens I guess
Will forever chime
Oh baby it's a wild world.
Sunday, March 15, 2026
Steve Coleman
Photographer John Stokes posted some soulful thoughts about his frustrations and his weariness of 'The Beautiful' photograph. And why a beautiful, yet shallow photograph, is often more lauded than a photograph with less 'surface beauty', despite that photograph having a deeper, richer story and character and soul.
Of course, 'audience reaction' is all dependent on your audience. So you do need to choose your audience wisely. Nonetheless, it is also true in life. We only need to reference Justin Bieber, Kim what's her name and the Housewives of, well any number of cities. A quality which many of us would like, is often hijacked by the masses.
Here is John's post. I'll 'cut and paste' here so more people see it (Facebook does not like links) but I will post the link later in the comments section. And thank you John for the nice mention of me. ( I get embarrassed when people do that )
"Something I find to be true is people for the most part just want to see something beautiful. And, they do not want to engage beyond viewing, then moving on.
This I find to occur often, one example being when I posted a scenic of Cedar Key from long ago. It got around three hundred views. I followed this up with a photograph of the old Sundance bar and a couple and their little dog fishing from the pier at Cedar Key. To me, these two photographs were much more interesting and intriguing. But they both received around fifty views.
I am almost to the point of growing weary of posting photographs that receive the beautiful moniker. I really do not know what I am after, for I too gravitate toward beauty, it is in our redeemed nature. But on a deeper level I desire to go beyond the surface, obvious beauty of a scene to the essence level of portraying pathos, sorrow, hope, joy, anything but beautiful. Steve Coleman the photographer from Australia uses a Mamyia7 film camera capable of producing some of the sharpest photographs imaginable, yet he deliberately chooses to blur his images by hand holding long exposures. He is weary of the arcane, landscape cookie cutter, beautiful scenes so many crank out with their Canon Mark threes.
I would ultimately strive for the photograph to touch people on a deeper level, even to make them squirm, maybe question a reason for something, to cause a reaction, an engaging. And is that not what is at the heart of art? To convey a worldview of the artist? To cause one to view the world on a deeper level beyond the easy beautiful and moving on to the next beautiful.
Ray Stevens said Everything is Beautiful, In its own way, and he was right. It is also a terrible cliche and each time I receive a beautiful remark, I think of the song and say, whoops,I did it again, stayed upon the surface.
And I will admit, we all are out for recognition. We are busy tooting our horns and screaming for notice.
It is difficult to shun the adulation and dare perhaps offend or challenge by offering photographs or works that go to another level, even a darker level, for it is sometimes in darkness where light is fully appreciated.
I think of the photojournalist Eugene Smith. In the seventies I was greatly moved and influenced with his photographs of the children and families in Japan sick from mercury poisoning from a chemical plant in their community. The birth defects were rampant. Smith captured in stark black and white the pathos, the sad humanity, and yet, the boundless love of a mother to hold dearly her deformed child.
Moving stuff. Way beyond the beautiful I am too prone to. Images I hold in my mind to this day. Who holds the beautiful sunset with azaleas I just took? Few." ~ John Stokes
Flee the dream
Hidden hawk
All in a split second the red shouldered came crashing from the trees, barely enough time to swing and shoot, much less to check settings.
Hidden hawk
Hidden hawk
All in a split second the red shouldered came crashing from the trees, barely enough time to swing and shoot, much less to check settings.
Price Creek
On a hill beside the Price Creek
The pioneers sleep
Some since eighteen thirty two
Before Columbia was a County
Fought in most all the wars
From Indian uprisings
To the far foreign shores
Settled the land made a stand
And the dogwood blossoms drop
Quietly so not to disturb
The pioneer sleeping. A very beautiful and timely post, John Clare Stokes. Buried in Price Creek Cemetery, along with his wife and a number of their family members and descendants, is Private Theophilus Weeks, who served in the Continental Line, North Carolina troops, during the Revolutionary War, the only documented Revolutionary War Patriot buried in Columbia county and one of our earliest pioneer settlers, with many descendants in this area. On Saturday, April 20th at 11:00 AM, the Edward Rutledge Chapter, Daughters of the American Revolution, and a number of descendants of Private Weeks, will dedicate a DAR Patriot marker, present an historical program and lay a wreath at the gravesite of Theophilus Weeks. The Sons of the American Revolution are also participating in this event. The public is invited.















