(no subject)
Well, another huge gap between entries, which isn't to say that I haven't been writing journal entries occasionally. One day I'll get them all together an type them up and I might have something that resembles a normal journal, though still sparse. Nothing compared to Lottie's journal. She always tells me that I have my photographs and that she has her writing which is true.
We're in our new house in Denbigh and we've been here a few days past a month. The animals have settled in though Sam is having some toilet issues. There is an issue behind the fridge at the moment, yuk.
It is a sunny day though cold in the shadows like winter is in Morocco. I'm inside, however, and Lottie is upstairs in bed waiting for her hip pain to subside. We were both excited for the weekend but even the best laid plans are subordinated by or respective ailments.
I don't feel that my career as a photographer has progressed beyond even the most restrained of the hopes that I had made a year ago. I have progressed artistically but I haven't sold any prints and haven't made any worthy of gallery space because I haven't had the money to print them. This has been a source of great frustration to add to mine and Lottie's shared frustration over income in general.
None the less I have been "putting in the hours". The other day I walked up above Denbigh quarry in the hope that I might be able to get a view through the trees and create an image that has impressed it's self onto my imagination, that I know exists before I have realised it. I think the ability to imagine an image before augmenting and taking it is a requirement as a photographer. Some might think that this flies in the face of the Cartier-Bresson philosophy but I think that it is only the time difference between imagination and execution that sets his and his follower's work apart from the likes of more conceptual, large format photography.
That's all for now because my computer is threatening to re-start it's self and I don't want to lose this entry before it is published.
We're in our new house in Denbigh and we've been here a few days past a month. The animals have settled in though Sam is having some toilet issues. There is an issue behind the fridge at the moment, yuk.
It is a sunny day though cold in the shadows like winter is in Morocco. I'm inside, however, and Lottie is upstairs in bed waiting for her hip pain to subside. We were both excited for the weekend but even the best laid plans are subordinated by or respective ailments.
I don't feel that my career as a photographer has progressed beyond even the most restrained of the hopes that I had made a year ago. I have progressed artistically but I haven't sold any prints and haven't made any worthy of gallery space because I haven't had the money to print them. This has been a source of great frustration to add to mine and Lottie's shared frustration over income in general.
None the less I have been "putting in the hours". The other day I walked up above Denbigh quarry in the hope that I might be able to get a view through the trees and create an image that has impressed it's self onto my imagination, that I know exists before I have realised it. I think the ability to imagine an image before augmenting and taking it is a requirement as a photographer. Some might think that this flies in the face of the Cartier-Bresson philosophy but I think that it is only the time difference between imagination and execution that sets his and his follower's work apart from the likes of more conceptual, large format photography.
That's all for now because my computer is threatening to re-start it's self and I don't want to lose this entry before it is published.