new filters on some old photos. these portland pics get a sparkly pixie-(pixely?) dust rain to imbue them with new feelings, shapes, meanings, and ideas.
[photoshop has no play here; the original snaps were run through Apple's Quartz Composition Filter]
After a bit of a break, I started to pool and sift through my photographs once again with the aim of creating some new blends, some new mixes, some new tasty treats. The aim, as usual, was to bring about some textures, some colors, some forms that would never see the light of day otherwise.
Though I do do this out of my own love, I put in a little extra effort because so many of my friends and family express their mutual pleasure. So thanks to your continued support and encouragement! One day I hope to balance the medium of output over to prints, even large-scale ones, with much of the same techniques.
Thrifts stores are a wealth of heterogeneousness. Some Valencia St. thrown in for good measure.
The Book (and Guide) of Outhouses is decidedly less imprudent than the contemporary yet still unassailable The Book (and Guide) of Yarn Farms. When the Genre Wars of the 20s started, the men in charge were not doing push-ups in back alleys or routine basements; they were not relaxing on gentle swings, jetty neo-crags, or experimental hover foams; and only somewhat importantly, they were not dissolving grains in pushable stacks, flying gyrocopters unscruplously into lunch-meetings, or walking their dogs. No; they were instead cooperating on heliotropic diversions of the Eastern persuasion, grassroots coal refinement, and paradigmatic poll generation. They also enjoyed plenty of local lemonade. In reality, these men were men in suits, that dressed in those suits in the morning, took them off at night, and preferred laughing to the alternative. They understood that not all wars were bad wars. They understood that context had precisely the gravitas it deserved amongst those who mattered. And they especially acknowledged that they liked being alive and publishing products. A statistically significant portion of the men and women who were not the men in charge were rather open about their extreme ambivalence to the topic, and most topics in general. It was a lamentable fact that very few historians sought to emboss the latent, gripping nature of this specific crevice of national history. But then of course, there was very little for the public at large to relate to.
first, heavily layer on the auger-hollowed aubergine. this is the base needed and requested for this particular project. if done right, this background will disgust to the point where each floating dollop of paint catches the eye as pin-fine relief and pleasure; the optic nerve should receive a primary buff of star-fuzz, rotating scrubber encyclical motion pads, expertly nano-programmed with the finest artisan algorithms. this will provide the recipient with forever-altered associations and a classical conditioning response to the used hues.
next comes the mescaline blue; its job is to only summon itself and provide unlawful neon piercings. it doesn’t even look at the nearby colors. it doesn’t need to.
albedo white is wholly next. it will have citrus-warm temperature still lingering underneath its brighter flecks. this is to provide contrast to the aforementioned blue; they are different realms, and will only correspond in the viewer’s brain-driven eyes. it will, as researched in trial ch#ff8000-x53, be a firm handle and flip-switch to remind the viewer how bright things can be.
finally comes the penultimate and the ultimate—necessarily in that order—patina blue-green and grape glaucous. they act as dampening fields for mortal observers; eyes will thank these colors (per a sanctioned interfacial exchange) later in old-age retirement. they will look of an unnatural paint substance, and will make the resulting canvas either more or less surreal, depending on previous experience and nature of the viewer’s philosophical character.
The first time I took photos in a long while. Such a nice return. San Francisco is a wealth of material, and I got pulled in block-by-block, subject by subject.
Speaking of subjects, my penchant for the inanimate can only bring me so far; despite my strong feelings for many of these shots, I’ve been considering switching it up and giving myself a new challenge. Going in the complete opposite direction, I would like to try some people as subjects. Lighting, composition, mood, patience, and interaction will be completely different. Looking forward to it!
Enjoy my angles.
we can’t help but count
the syllables in haikus
ready your fingers
—tree-house pal views—
up inside tree-house pal views
friendship courts precious play muse
wonder, laughter, pious hand-slaps
twixt a flick of moonlit laugh jabs
won’t we sleep in bags of mellow fort trust?
View the world up close. Learn about infinite complexity and self-similarity. Consider the Shoreline analogy of fractal geometry.
Not too much going on. The way I like it. There’s something serene in these types of shots. Composition is paramount. Patterns are everywhere.