Barn in Lafayette County © 2010 Bo Mackison
I used one of the art filters, black and white grainy, that are on the Olympus E-P1 (PEN) but much of the time the filters are a bit over the top for my preferences. So I modified the black and white tones in Lightroom.
I went to the Apple store last week for an in depth discussion on Aperture 3. After waiting for 6 months, Aperture 3 is out and finally there is support for the Olympus PEN cameras (and all the other micro four-thirds). I liked using the Aperture program before I purchased the PEN (and then no longer had access to it) and I’m considering getting the upgrade. It means another learning curve while learning to a new program. Sigh! And comes at a busy time for me, so I’m vacillating a bit.
I’ve got an appointment at Apple for next week…I’m thinking.
Mid-Winter Sentiments
The sun came for a visit to Wisconsin yesterday. I spent the afternoon studying shadows – many forms of shadows, both those I could see, and those I could only feel.
Stove Top
After the kitchen quieted, after the food was prepared, the busy stove got a few minutes of respite. While everyone else entertained themselves with trivia games and after dinner walks, I took photographs of the star of the kitchen. The star of the kitchen after the chef, that is.
Lake Mendota
Madison was fogged in today, but it wasn’t my best day for photography. Early this morning, with the fog swirling around the second story window of my studio, I removed the screen from the window. Then I preset my camera and set it up on the tripod for a skyward shot. Hundreds of Canada Geese have been flying past my window several times a day, and with the fog as a background, I thought I’d take advantage of this photo op. When I heard the honking, I sprang into action, but in my hurry to get the window cranked open, I forgot -sigh! -to remove the lens cover. By the time I realized my error, I missed the moment of the flyover.
The day doesn’t get much better. I went to Lake Mendota and shot a few photographs of the fogged-in lake, then drove to a prairie about a half hour from my home. The fog had settled into a crevice, and hovered magically over the gap. I walked in to get some shots. I had only taken four photos when my battery, without warning, died. No problem. I always carry a second battery, but when I searched my camera bagg – no battery. By this time, my hands were cold, and I was gettting a bit cranky, so I chalked the day up to bad karma, and headed home.
Once home, I again searched for the missing battery – and found it right where it was supposed to be. IN my camera bag!
Yep, one of THOSE days!
On Wisconsin's Back Roads
It takes discipline to take photographs, and a certain confidence. I don’t score high on life’s quiz when measuring discipline or confidence. But I’m learning – in little ways.
Take, for example, this photo of the two barns. To me, it represents progress. So you might ask, “Progress in photographic skills?” Nope, not what I’m talking about here. Progress in discipline, progress in confidence. If that sounds far-fetched, I’ll explain.
I drive Wisconsin roads at least three times a week for the sole purpose of seeing what there is to see. I routinely have my camera gear with me – that’s habit – so I’m always looking for opportunities to shoot a photograph or two. But here is the sticking point that stops me from even trying to capture many of the photographic opportunities I imagine.
I’m not driving the car. To clarify, here’s a typical scenario:
Bo (craning head as the car zooms down the road): That would make a great shot.
Sherpa (concentrating on driving and catching the Packers’ game on the radio): Do you want me to turn around?
Bo (still looking back in the distance): Uh, no. Never mind.
Sherpa (still zooming down the road): OK.
Bo (thinking silently): That could have been a great shot!
After I repeated this scene more times than I care to admit, I realized the situation was a not an example of great communication skills. And it wasn’t working. I would be a bit miffed that Sherpa hadn’t responded to my comment by stopping the car with squealing brakes and burning rubber. Sherpa had no clue. And truthfully, if he had stopped the car every time I said “that would be a great shot,” we’d be fortunate to travel a mile in an hour.
So I explained this predicament to Sherpa, who truly had no idea I’d really wanted to stop. And we made an agreement. I could say “that would be a great shot” a million times an hour if I wanted. That’s a good plan, because I say those words before I even realize I’ve said them. But, and here’s the simple solution that is my big step of progress, I now ask him to turn around some of the time.
You’d think that wouldn’t have been such a big revelation. Well, it was.
I had to come to terms with a couple of basic facts. Even after 33 years of marriage, the guy still cannot read my mind. He will never be able to read my mind, so if I want to take a photograph, and I don’t want to stick my camera out the car window for a drive-by shooting, then I need to say those magic words.
“Yes. Please turn around.”
It works.
Ah, such a simple solution. (You think?)
spines and curves
‘Agave Americana’–not a cactus, though frequently referred to as one. Spines are sharp–very sharp. Speaking from experience. Photographed at the Boyce Thompson Arboretum, an arboretum specializing in arid plants, world-wide, and located near Superior, Arizona–about an hour east of Phoenix.
Marching to a Different Drummer
I went to the Farmers Market this morning. The April-through-October weekly ritual begins. I bought some spinach and a few flowers to plant, and took some photos of the Market and the crowd and the Capitol Building. (The Market is on the Capitol Square in Madison; the Capitol Building is in the center of the Square.)
On my way to the car, I noticed this delightful bit of graffiti. I love the balloon guy!
Strawberry Island
Still doing photos from last summer. How did I ever manage to get such a backlog? This photo is from a cloudy, windy August day in northeastern Wiscosnin’s Door County. I spent a long afternoon sitting on the beach watching the clouds drift over Strawberry Island. I remember thinking everyone else was in such a hurry to go see something, go do something. I was pretty satisfied doing what I was doing — thinking about “stuff” and watching the clouds drift by. Once in awhile I’d pick up my camera and take a couple of photos.
Aren’t those clouds something to behold?
Slow Growth Supports Huge Weight
University of Wisconsin Arboretum provides a nature space in our urban setting. I forget I am only a few steps away from a hustling crowd and busy streets when I pass through the park on its numerous trails.
The strength of this oak tree stopped me in my tracks. Only slow growth makes it possible to this tree to support the low, massive branch that extends way past this photo. Seems a fitting lesson from nature in these times of economic troubles.
...and waiting and waiting and waiting
Though Madison has five lakes in the city or just south of the city, it is usually called the City of Four Lakes. The four lakes are successive lakes of the Yahara River. In the summer, it’s great fun to launch a boat in Lake Mendota (“Fourth Lake”) and travel through the lakes and connecting waters passages, heading south past Lake Monona (“Third Lake”), Lake Waubesa (“Second Lake”), and into Lake Kegonsa (“First Lake”). The Yahara River eventually flows into the Rock River which eventually flows into the Mississippi. Lake Wingra, the fifth lake, is not a part of the Yahara system, though it is inside the city proper. Wingra, quite small, is mostly used for canoeing or fishing or just lake watching.
Downtown Madison is positioned between Lake Mendota and Lake Monona, and the area is usually referred to as the Isthmus. As in “I’m going to the Isthmus” or occasionally one might say “I’m going to the Capitol” (which is smack dab in the middle of the isthmus). Only infrequently does one hear “I’m going downtown.” Every school kid in Madison grows up knowing what an isthmus is, and how to get to Madison’s Isthmus. Madison even has a newspaper called The Isthmus.
Of Madison’s 85 square miles, 81% is land and 19% is water. Lots of water fun in Madison.
Though right now, it’s more like lots of ice fun – skating, cross-country skiing on the snow covering the ice, kite sailing, and ice fishing for hardy souls.
