Creative Space
“[Some believe] it is only great power that can hold evil in check, but that is not what I have found. I found it is the small everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keep the darkness at bay. Small acts of kindness and love.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit
This nighttime photograph of the Great Salt Lake is only 25% truthful.
If you're a rockstar, shouldn't your portrait rock? Me thinks that "yes"...
FOR YOU STALWART SLC DWELLERS: During the winter in Salt Lake City, UT, a MUCH DESPISED weather phenomenon darkly settles in against the Wasatch Mountains called the "Inversion Layer." It's a post-holidays, high-pressure weather system that hovers over the valley and traps pollution, cat-dander, stress and general crankiness in a great sea of BLAH! It's this time of year when I want to exit the state and head to California, reinforcing the veracity of the theorem BLAH - BH = LA.
Eventually this fog of despair lifts as the Inversion Layer reverts itself in the face of an approaching spring. The takeaway here is this: TURN THAT FROWN UPSIDE DOWN. This (cesspool of smog) too shall pass. :)
When you drift off alone tonight I pray you look upon the skies for beacon mine will beckon you to stray from yonder path I reckon stay awhile upon my sighs whilst you I sing a lullaby: tonight is different.
Broken it the cycle of despondent low it quizzes me my sense of purpose aimlessly abandons hope upon life's reef alone I'm cast upon the beach alone again alone.
But bottled up inside of me it bubbles froth a memory of her somewhere beyond that sea of longing, waiting, patiently I put to work upon my skiff and send myself upon the drift of mercy's wanton alacrity hoping but to catch a glance a current I might just dare to take a chance.
To drown, to dream -- it is the same. I surf upon the only name that time and space fix to deny but upon my life she will be mine again, for she was mine before, have you, perchance, forgot the lore? The legend deep inside of you for you are me (you know 'tis true) and this time capsule circulates an eternal round reality is not so sound and brittle dreams, or so they seem, just might bear more for you (errr ME) than what perception will allow of here and there and then and now.
And now again you're here my friend hell bent intent to get it right you toil in silence all the night to reach the shore you're fading fast to reach the light at love long last for she is there your fears ignore for all of this has passed before will pass again a billion times and once just once despite the plight of failing light and smashed your dreams upon the shoal I know you've never reached your goal and perhaps in future, future lives you'll fail again but you're not there and you're not then you're here and now, it's time my friend, to heave and ho, line up the bow, put to and row, the time is now.
Forget hopes dashed on other nights. For this time you will get it right.
BH
Back in December, I went with a friend to the Governor's Mansion Christmas Gala here in Salt Lake City, UT. This is one of my favorite events of the year and is always carried out in spectacular form. Naturally, photo opps at such an event abound as the Mansion is always decked out in holiday regalia this time of year. And while my photographic skill set has been coming along quite nicely, apparently I need to work on the whole "being a good friend" thing as I have neglected to send her any of the shots from the evening oh, now, for about six weeks.
The other day, before I sent these images on their way, I thought maybe I'd take JUST A FEW MINUTES to throw in a few post-processing edits. NATURALLY, at this point, I proceeded to pull an all-nighter, turning one of the photos from the event into a 3D photo extravaganza.
INSTRUCTIONS:
1) GET 3D GLASSES. No really. The red and blue ones.
2) PUT THEM ON.
3) LOOK COOL.
4) LOOK AT THE PICTURES.
5) [BONUS] TURN THE GLASSES UPSIDE DOWN AND LOOK AGAIN. This reverses the order of the 3D layers. Why does this happen? MOSTLY BECAUSE OF SCIENCE.
"For every step her foot doth light, are diamonds set against the night..." -BH
(A Facebook wall post for a friend on her birthday).
An Open Shutter Gallery featuring the crazy, chaotic mess we know as Las Vegas.
Despite being a total noob when it comes to photography with a real camera, I somehow managed to eek this one out. The Audi space at the 2013 Consumer Electronics Show in Las Vegas is absolutely spectacular. The stark white absence and angles of the space give it an infinite, surreal yet modern sense of distance and velocity. I LOVE IT.
My CES Audi Pic Kills... ne -- it SLAYS.
I've been messing around with photography with my new Canon EOS M. I'm so loving the quality of pictures and what I'm able to do with them. This set was taken at the Joseph Smith Memorial Building in Salt Lake City and edited on my iPad3. It's of the huge chandelier that hangs down in the lobby of the building with a giant statue of Joseph Smith on the west side of the room.
Below you'll find links to the iOS apps I used for postprocessing.
Photoforge2: http://j.mp/XcmGOC
Snapseed: http://j.mp/XcmLSg
ImageBlender: http://j.mp/XcmONY
Glaze: http://j.mp/XcmSNZ
Photogene: http://j.mp/Xcn9Ah
It is our dreams which lie in wait for us in the dark of night, for we fear them the most.
BH
Sometimes it's the little things that cure your insomnia. Like peacefully following along and grazing upon the lumbering notes of Chopin's Nocturne Op.9 No.2, being enfolded in its trills and impressionist meanderings before realizing that somewhere out there, someone listens to this same song, slowly, softly drifting off while drowsily counting sheep. Perhaps even while counting you. And it is only upon awaking to this realization, or becoming entranced by it, that sleep finally overtakes you.
BH
Miraban las palomas frioleras
del hado, ánima desesperada,
de la que siempre llamaba amada,
cuando el amor se me heló de veras.
Subieron callados las escaleras,
ellos sombríos y sin carcajada,
la nave por olas bien agitada,
claro azul--las manos marineras.
Las puertas del cielo hicieron cerrar
cuando bajaron ellos con bolina
y cuerda, el alma mía a la mar.
Sin temor y sin acción clandestina,
iría con Orfeo a buscar,
el calor della, mi glacial menina.
BH
O también puede ser que estas historias existan solamente para distraerme de la posibilidad de que sea yo el protagonista, o quizás el fantoche, de una visión neblosa literaria de un tal Miguel de Unamuno, lo cuál ha muerto ya aunque sigue aún la rasgosa existencia suya por los amplios compendios de la crítica académica que lo intentan comprender, buscando al denso profundo de su supuesta manía cuyos síntomas se hallan solamente a las riberas de su filosofía y en el psyche de sus aficionados.
Sin embargo, queda claro que la existencia susodicha contínua de Unamuno es una víspera de la imaginación del lector de tales ediciones críticas mencionadas. Aun de la imaginación de mí -- un lector bien calificado quién provengo de la Argentina.
Lo que no entiendes, amiga, en este taller mío de espacio y tiempo, es que hoy es el día 16 de Febrero del año 1946. Estamos en las afueras de la porteña ciudad de Buenos Aires. Y mi nombre verídico es Jorge Luis Borges. Y tú, tú eres la protagonista de una historia, de un cuento que es mío. La verdad es que lo que pensabas leer, hija, te está leyendo a ti.
BH
Time to detach and get in touch with your inner philosophizer-er...
ON DISTINCTIONS: Without distinctions, we are not. Think about it - "we" can only exist as a plurality. In a plurality, there is always more than one of something. That means that there simply has to be some point where "I" end and "you" begin. Otherwise, "we" would be one big "I." So what separates you from me? Is it our skin? Is it that for whatever reason we can't seem to occupy the same physical space? Or can it be more conceptual? I like to eat chocolate ice cream, but you like to eat vanilla ice cream. Or could it be the way in we eat the ice cream? I eat it slowly, savoring each bite while you, well, let's just say you're more efficient in your consumption. Needless to say, there are countless ways to distinguish this from that, you from me, us from them. How we differ from others is what is memorable. Literally, without distinctions, memory would be impossible. And our existence would be like a field of grass at night. As the wind howls and the grass rustles, a silent traveler might feel each blade brush against his skin in the cool obscurity. But each one is indistinguishable from the last and the next. It's as if each individual blade doesn't exist at all but is swallowed up in an ocean of noise.
