Look out, world...
...yours truly has a digital camera!
Yes, the tax refund finally kicked in, the research has been done, the purchase has been made, and I have a whole entire new hobby all tucked up in a cute l'il Roots case. Or at least, I will as soon as I have a chance - hopefully, this weekend - to find and photograph stuff that isn't a) on my bookshelf or b) related to me.
Meanwhile, I've made some interesting preliminary discoveries. For instance, how you can turn the most mundane event into insta-party fodder simply by recording it. The human race - in my vicinity, anyway - seems to be perpetually just slightly disoriented re: self-image, and watching them try and adjust is basically a therapist's wet dream.
My little Canon companion actually comes with a 'Kids & Pets' setting, which I think is just great. (Now, about that 'Recalcitrant Sisters' setting? Actually, for maximum usefulness I'm thinking one of those head-clamps that they used in Victorian photography could maybe shoot out, R2-D2-like, from the top.)
Honestly, I think the whole thing is wonderful. For the largest part of my thirty-odd years a camera has meant a bulky, multi-component abstract that mysteriously, when all the stars were aligned correctly was my best guess, recorded imagery. I hung about galleries contemplating the output of, say, Ansel Adams with awe, and a vague sense of longing.
Now, suddenly, all the possibilities of Art are cupped in my lone little hand, and that longing is so sharply defined I'm even a little startled at its intensity. I feel this tremendous urge to get out there and Experience the Visual. Nay, interpret Life Itself, give it layers of heretofore unrealised, because indescribable, Meaning...
...In other words, yes, I have become yet another blogger with a camera. Not to worry, though, because I come with a built-in anti-annoyance device in the form of Shoemom, who will kill me if she sits down at our shared computer and finds anything even remotely 'personal' staring back at her. Depending on the nature of said pic, the Shoesisters will unhesitatingly act as witnesses for the defense.
Thus, much as I'm dying to inflict such party-ready moments as Shoemom's Latest New Outfit or Shoesis Counts Her Car Loan Payment While I Speculate on Where She Earned It..not so much. Instead, you might want to prepare for a long series of 'panoramic shots' (cf. Ray Goulding), interspersed with...uh...Cats Doing Cute Stuff, mostly. That never gets old, right?
...Yeah, well, nuts to you, animal-hating party-pooper. For a start, let's meet the cast:
This is Lucy, my little tortoiseshell kitty. Eleven years ago, I rescued her from the shelter age about three. She is quiet and shy and extremely dignified - except where salmon treats are concerned - and has perfect round paws with one butterscotch toe in front. She has a surprisingly loud, raspy miauw when she does talk - usually about salmon treats - and a rare and wonderful matching purr like a Model-T engine. Also, she is the only cat I've ever known to snore. She is the companion of my first eight years in the big city, on our own together...meaning she knows all my secrets, but loves me anyway.
This is Dolly, Shoemom's enormous brown tabby, in our bathroom sink in case you're wondering (bonus cute cat tooth-mug thrown in free). Five years ago, Shoemom fell in love with the runt of a litter a customer had rescued - "awwww, what a cute little dolly...". That was before we realised feral genetics had left her with the kind of instincts that once inspired her to launch herself over the (luckily second-floor) balcony in pursuit of squirrels. She is much smarter than the average feline - except where squirrels are concerned - and not shy about explaining exactly which needs we're currently not fulfilling.
These are, respectively, the collection of miniature animals that live in my bookshelf and (part of) the collection of stuffies that live on my desk. They were originally only meant to provide test subjects after Shoemom objected to being filmed in her PJs. However, now that I look them over, they turn out to be unexpectedly fetching on film, thus may be making further appearances from time to time as the inspiration strikes.
This is my city - Toronto - or, more specifically, View Northbound From Rosedale Station as the Subway Train Comes In, Just Before Shoemom Picks Me Up. Yes, I know the perspective's still a bit off. That's one of the things I'm hoping to work on this weekend...
...And you. Are. There! Won't this be fun? No, really. I swear.
Yes, the tax refund finally kicked in, the research has been done, the purchase has been made, and I have a whole entire new hobby all tucked up in a cute l'il Roots case. Or at least, I will as soon as I have a chance - hopefully, this weekend - to find and photograph stuff that isn't a) on my bookshelf or b) related to me.
Meanwhile, I've made some interesting preliminary discoveries. For instance, how you can turn the most mundane event into insta-party fodder simply by recording it. The human race - in my vicinity, anyway - seems to be perpetually just slightly disoriented re: self-image, and watching them try and adjust is basically a therapist's wet dream.
My little Canon companion actually comes with a 'Kids & Pets' setting, which I think is just great. (Now, about that 'Recalcitrant Sisters' setting? Actually, for maximum usefulness I'm thinking one of those head-clamps that they used in Victorian photography could maybe shoot out, R2-D2-like, from the top.)
Honestly, I think the whole thing is wonderful. For the largest part of my thirty-odd years a camera has meant a bulky, multi-component abstract that mysteriously, when all the stars were aligned correctly was my best guess, recorded imagery. I hung about galleries contemplating the output of, say, Ansel Adams with awe, and a vague sense of longing.
Now, suddenly, all the possibilities of Art are cupped in my lone little hand, and that longing is so sharply defined I'm even a little startled at its intensity. I feel this tremendous urge to get out there and Experience the Visual. Nay, interpret Life Itself, give it layers of heretofore unrealised, because indescribable, Meaning...
...In other words, yes, I have become yet another blogger with a camera. Not to worry, though, because I come with a built-in anti-annoyance device in the form of Shoemom, who will kill me if she sits down at our shared computer and finds anything even remotely 'personal' staring back at her. Depending on the nature of said pic, the Shoesisters will unhesitatingly act as witnesses for the defense.
Thus, much as I'm dying to inflict such party-ready moments as Shoemom's Latest New Outfit or Shoesis Counts Her Car Loan Payment While I Speculate on Where She Earned It..not so much. Instead, you might want to prepare for a long series of 'panoramic shots' (cf. Ray Goulding), interspersed with...uh...Cats Doing Cute Stuff, mostly. That never gets old, right?
...Yeah, well, nuts to you, animal-hating party-pooper. For a start, let's meet the cast:
This is Lucy, my little tortoiseshell kitty. Eleven years ago, I rescued her from the shelter age about three. She is quiet and shy and extremely dignified - except where salmon treats are concerned - and has perfect round paws with one butterscotch toe in front. She has a surprisingly loud, raspy miauw when she does talk - usually about salmon treats - and a rare and wonderful matching purr like a Model-T engine. Also, she is the only cat I've ever known to snore. She is the companion of my first eight years in the big city, on our own together...meaning she knows all my secrets, but loves me anyway.
This is Dolly, Shoemom's enormous brown tabby, in our bathroom sink in case you're wondering (bonus cute cat tooth-mug thrown in free). Five years ago, Shoemom fell in love with the runt of a litter a customer had rescued - "awwww, what a cute little dolly...". That was before we realised feral genetics had left her with the kind of instincts that once inspired her to launch herself over the (luckily second-floor) balcony in pursuit of squirrels. She is much smarter than the average feline - except where squirrels are concerned - and not shy about explaining exactly which needs we're currently not fulfilling.
These are, respectively, the collection of miniature animals that live in my bookshelf and (part of) the collection of stuffies that live on my desk. They were originally only meant to provide test subjects after Shoemom objected to being filmed in her PJs. However, now that I look them over, they turn out to be unexpectedly fetching on film, thus may be making further appearances from time to time as the inspiration strikes.
This is my city - Toronto - or, more specifically, View Northbound From Rosedale Station as the Subway Train Comes In, Just Before Shoemom Picks Me Up. Yes, I know the perspective's still a bit off. That's one of the things I'm hoping to work on this weekend...
...And you. Are. There! Won't this be fun? No, really. I swear.