If you've been a reader for a while, you've probably noted my fascination with photographing the abstract patterns that result from the interplay of water and light. If these were painted, would they be masterpieces of abstract art? Or should I just leave them as photos? Something to think about. While some have been altered using Photoshop, others are straight out of camera, or have only been "auto- leveled." (For those of you not familiar with PS, "auto levels" is just a standard adjustment meant to correct color and contrast to "normal".) The variations in pattern, color, and form never cease to surprise and amaze me.
This one has had nothing done to it except auto levels, I swear. Freaky, huh? If I saw this without knowing what it was, I don't think I would ever guess it was water.
Again, just auto levels...
When I look at these, I know beyond any doubt that I can never create anything so beautiful. Who do I think I'm kidding, calling myself an artist? On the other hand, maybe I should paint them; it would be a challenge, and probably lots of fun. But there they are, already.
I've been absent from blog-world for a while, deciding instead to focus on some other things. I'll be sharing these with you soon, but right now have lots of pots on the stove, so to speak. In the meantime, I'm going to share something that doesn't require me to take new photos!
As I noted a couple of posts ago, I've become obsessed with water as a source of abstract images. I realized that I'm amassing quite a large collection of these photos at this point, and thought it might be fun to put together a slide show. I hope you enjoy it!
Are you sick of these yet? I promise this is it....unless, of course, I take more photos...
Anyone who's followed my blog for a while is probably aware that I'm obsessed with water. More specifically, I love to take photos of water in all its various forms. I love the way it moves, or doesn't; I love the way it reflects its surroundings, or allows us to see into its depths; the way it distorts, and the way it clarifies. I'm fascinated by what's beneath it as well as what remains on its surface. I can't ever get enough of the reflections, refractions, and colors it assumes. Water is constant change, and I never tire of watching it.
A few posts back, I discussed abstraction in art, and particularly in regard to photography. If you click on the links above, you'll see that many of my abstract photos focus on water as the subject. (Where is she going with this?, you may wonder. Well, I'm getting to that.) So, a couple of days ago, I was looking through my old art journal from when I was in the Master's program at the Art Academy of Cincinnati, and I found this:
I was pretty surprised, as I did not remember this at all. This was written at least 10 years ago, so obviously this stuff has been floating around in the back of my brain for a long time. (What else could be back there that I'm not aware of? There's a scary thought!) The weird part is that I was just getting ready to post these "abstract water" photos that I took last fall.
I saw this on Buddhagirl's Umatku blog, and even though I missed Thanksgiving by a day, I thought I'd do it anyway. 'Tis the season, right? Here are 10 things I'm grateful for, in no particular order:
I find myself becoming increasingly more fascinated by water, photographing it over and over again. Constantly changing in endless permutations- visually, it never disappoints. It appears to play some age-old game with light, one that only they understand. It can be a mirror, reflecting the colors and forms around it, while keeping its own secrets hidden beneath. It can stay absolutely still, or become a rushing, raging torrent against which nothing can stand. It can be life-giving relief and sustenance, but just as swiftly take life and wash it away as if were nothing.
It seems a mystery to me- something that's so common, and so necessary for life, but is really quite unique. We take water for granted, most of us wasting it without much thought. Yet we can live only a week or so without it; we can go a month or more without food. Our bodies are 60- 70% water. While approximately 75% of the earth's surface is covered with water, 97% of that is salt water, and 2% is frozen in the polar ice caps, which means about 1% is drinkable. It's the only substance that occurs naturally in all of matter's three forms: solid, liquid, and gas. Somehow, the scientific facts don't begin to capture the truth of it, or what it means to us human beings on this planet.
Since the beginning of recorded history, water has been important symbolically as well as physically. According to Avia Veneficia of What's-Your-Sign.com:
The symbolism of water has a universal undertone of purity and fertility. Symbolically, it is often viewed as the source of life itself as we see evidence in countless creation myths in which life emerges from primordial waters.
Interestingly, we are all made of water, and so we can liken many of these myths and allegories to our own existence (the macrocosm mirroring the microcosm and vice versa). Further, we can incorporate symbolism of circulation, life, cohesion and birth by associating the creative waters of the earth with the fluids found in our own body (i.e., blood).
In Taoist tradition, water is considered an aspect of wisdom. The concept here is that water takes on the form in which it is held and moves in the path of least resistance. Here the symbolic meaning of water speaks of a higher wisdom we may all aspire to mimic.
The ever-observant ancient Greeks understood the power of transition water holds. From liquid, to solid, to vapor - water is the epitomal symbol for metamorphosis and philosophical recycling.
Among the first peoples of North America, water was considered a valuable commodity (particularly in the more arid plains and western regions) and the Native Americans considered water to be a symbol of life (further solidifying the symbol affixed in many creation myths).
So it is also with the ancient Egyptians as we learn their beloved (and heavily relied upon) Nile river is akin to the birth canal of their existence.
A quick list of symbolic meanings for water include (but are not limited to):
And from Pure Inside Out: The holy books of the Hindus explain that all the inhabitants of the earth emerged from the primordial sea. At the beginning of the Judeo-Christian story of creation, the spirit of God is described as "stirring above the waters," and later, God creates "a firmament in the midst of the waters to divide the waters" (Genesis 1:1-6)
Finally, I'll leave you with the words of one of my personal heroes, and a great Kentuckian:
Water by Wendell Berry
I was born in a drouth year. That summer my mother waited in the house, enclosed in the sun and the dry ceaseless wind, for the men to come back in the evenings, bringing water from a distant spring. veins of leaves ran dry, roots shrank. And all my life I have dreaded the return of that year, sure that it still is somewhere, like a dead enemys soul. Fear of dust in my mouth is always with me, and I am the faithful husband of the rain, I love the water of wells and springs and the taste of roofs in the water of cisterns. I am a dry man whose thirst is praise of clouds, and whose mind is something of a cup. My sweetness is to wake in the night after days of dry heat, hearing the rain.
The last time I went to our place in the country, the pond had adopted some new inhabitants- water lilies. I'm pretty fascinated by water in general, as you may have noticed, and this development gave me a whole new angle on photographing water.
To be honest, I had never thought about why Monet painted waterlilies again and again. I guess I thought he painted them because, well, they were THERE.
I do understand why he was drawn to water as a subject, though. The colors, the effects of light on its surface, reflecting sky, land, trees- it's an ever-changing and mesmerizing show. Water can move with great force, carrying huge trees as if they were matchsticks, or be as absolutely still as the surface of a mirror. The mysteries of its depths and the life within them captivate me.
Water can appear as smooth as glass until broken by the undulation of a wave. Sometimes it looks like ice, or, oddly enough, jello. It encompasses three worlds: beneath, surface, and reflected above. Perhaps this is what gives it its magical qualities, often spoken of in fairy tales and other stories.
When I began to look at the lily pads on the water, I realized they were connected to the soil on the bottom of the pond by what appear to be long, thin strings. While I had always that they're green, in actuality they vary from yellow to green to red to purple. Moving with the liquid they rest upon, they float on top, and sometimes carry water themselves.
So I took bunches of pictures, not really expecting them to be very interesting.
When I downloaded them onto my computer, I was completely amazed. Why Monet never tired of painting them, why he put them on canvases as big as the side of a house- I get it now.
My very slow Photoshop education continues...mostly by trial and error. But I am learning, and having fun when I don't get too frustrated. Here's the photo I stated with. I wanted to make the ripples more prominent,
which led me to this. Of course, I have to keep pushing it, just to see what happens.
After several incarnations, it's starting to look pretty strange and science fiction-y. But I don't stop yet...
Okay, this is too weird, even for me.
I decided to go with the science fiction theme here. I wanted to test my skills and see if I could make it look like the moon was coming out of, (or going into) the water.
It could certainly use some improvement, but I'm making progress! what do you think?
