The painterly quality of a shallow depth of field can turn a simple photo into a canvas – appropriate, considering tulips have long been popular with artists, and some varieties have even been named after them.
The Rembrandt Tulip, featured here, was popular in Holland during the tulip frenzy of the 1600’s, even though the Dutch painter is not actually known for painting flowers.
I have wanted to upgrade my camera equipment for quite some time, but I’m not what you’d call a “professional”, just an enthusiastic amateur who gets little pleasure from making money off of my photography. I know! Crazytown. So, being that the IRS considers what I do a hobby, I didn’t feel justified spending thousands of dollars on the Nikon D800 I really, really wanted.
So, what is a bleeding heart photographer to do? After much consideration, I bought a D7000 (much more reasonable price point, more mega pixels, and fast shutter speed than my D90) and bought a new 35 mm lens. I wanted the lens because I can get an f-stop of 1.8 and I’ve been dying to play with bokeh (that blur you see in the background of some photos). Here are some of the first shots with the new camera and lens. Now that the weather is nicer, I anticipate many hours outside with friends, hunting for subject matter. I’m thinking I’ll call this The Year of Bokeh.
There are a few activities in life that require a person to assume a strange position. For example, this afternoon Andy walked out of his condo and found me laying on the sidewalk looking up at these little daffodils.
“I know, this looks strange,” I said, “but it’s the only way to get the view of the flowers I want.”
“You just look like a photographer,” he responded and then jumped into his car with his own camera bag.
He gets it, but I wonder what the neighbors must think!
The red of the roses was deep and perfect. Perfectly boring – just like most things that are too pretty. The sepia added a bit of nostalgia and interest for me. Plus, I wanted to play with “dodge and burn” in Photoshop, and I liked the effect better on the sepia.
I don’t know why I’ve been so fascinated with flowers lately. If anyone were to stumble upon my blog right now, they’d think this was all I did. Which it isn’t. This weekend, the goal is to get some decent after dark art in Seattle. Must find new material….
After struggling to keep up with my blog for several months, I had to admit defeat and step away for a time. But, I’m happy to report that I’ve successfully completed another quarter, and I’m taking the summer off! No more teachers, no more books….
So, back to blogging!
There’s a lot I want to do this summer. I want to get a side photography business started and actually do some writing. I’d like to catch up on world events and read a few good books. Imagine doing that – reading for fun!! And, of course I’ll begin the process of getting caught up on the blogs I follow again. I may actually be able to keep up – for the summer at least.
Love is an explosion of life and beautiful expectation. Every second is quiet rapture.
The wrong person can elicit feelings of trepidation. While it’s good to take chances, not every threshold is meant to be crossed.
There are some people I’ll love my whole life, no matter how many years pass and no matter what rises and falls around me. Every time I hear their voice the years crumble, and I find myself living in yesterday.
There’s that old expression, April showers bring May flowers. Well, we got the flowers, but the showers decided to overstay their welcome. I don’t think we’ve had more than a couple of days of pure sunshine this entire month! Don’t be deceived by my sunny posts…those days were the exception!
My friend Sarah and I went on a photo walk (drive) yesterday after the sun peeked out again. We found some beautiful flowers along the road to La Conner and decided to make a couple of stops. I have no idea what these flowers are called, but Sarah’s post has a few descriptions, if you’d like to take a look.
A flower falls, even though we love it; and a weed grows, even though we do not love it. ~Dogen
There’s something about Jess’s wilted flowers that I have grown to appreciate. They’re a gentle reminder of the capacity of the heart to heal despite the greatest hurts – that new life can grow from death.
And when it does, we learn to rip the weeds from the flowerbed before they choke the roses.