Photos and reality

viewing.grand.canyon

I’ve been thinking a lot about photos and life. Sometimes a photograph can be more beautiful than the reality (hello, photoshop!)  Sometimes a photograph can fail to capture the magnificence of reality (e.g., vacation photos of the grand canyon.)

I spend a lot of time trying to make beautiful photos. It gives me pleasure, it’s a creative outlet, an escape.

This past weekend in my household was difficult. We are all (except for my 5 year old) stretched too thin with too many commitments, obligations, and interests. There were times when the chaos, the comings and goings, the desires and tensions of a family of six were a lot to handle.

orchid.clean

And there were times when I sat editing the photos of an orchid that recently began reblooming. As I cropped, enhanced sharpness, fixed the color, beautified these photographs, I thought of some of the less than beautiful moments I’d experienced in my own house in the past few hours – children hitting one another, panicked searches for lost gloves and more than one imperious “leave me alone!” I thought about the contrast between the noisy reality going on in my life and the serene calmness in the photos I was trying to create.

By working to beautify my photos, am I trying to ‘fake’ my life into something its not? Am I trying to pretend I have a more perfect life? That is certainly not my intent, yet, I hear time and again “pinterest makes me feel guilty” or too much time on facebook, looking at photos of other people finishing triathalons, celebrating with friends, and posing with their beautiful families, makes people feel depressed.

I don’t post ‘real’ and gritty photos because that’s not what I want to see when I go online and because, well, it just seems like that would be boring. Maybe that’s why other people tend to post their photos of happy moments too. Who wants to celebrate, share, dwell on the negative?

I was intrigued recently, when I came across this post, Reality Reframed, by Tracey Clark. I particularly like the way she shows the relationship between a snapshot of real life and a selective, edited, artistic photo. I like the idea of trying to find the beauty in everyday life. I like the idea that the act of making something, even a simple edited photograph, is an escape, antidote, a salve against the chaos and ugliness that can be real life.

orchid.reality
So, here is my reality: I found my orchid reblooming here, next to the box of temporarily abandoned art projects, the rosemary standard I forgot to give to my sister, a green plastic spray bottle.

Novelty and Narrative on Instagram

gingerbreadman.pchyburrs
image from instagram feed of pchyburrs

I’ve posted before about how I love instagram as a creative outlet – a forum to learn, practice photography, and glimpse faraway places. But I also love instagram as a place to be surprised and amazed by the creativity of others. The instagram posts of Pchyburrs and Chibichibin never disappoint. They go beyond photography and into the territory of illustration and story telling. Through careful staging, editing or both, they create images that are novel, thrilling, and clever. Narrative images that make me pause and think. Images that soar and delight.

flyaway.chibichibin
image from instagram feed of chibchibin

Finally, an excuse for a messy desk

clean house, wasted life

Over the weekend, I came across the story, “What a Messy Desk Says about You” in the Sunday New York Times. The article describes how working in a messier environment leads to greater creativity, at least, in the research reported. Honestly, this seemed a bit obvious. Aren’t designers and decorators known for keeping messy inspiration boards, crammed with photos, textiles, drawings and knick-knacks? Aren’t there coffee mugs featuring Einstein’s famous quote, “If a cluttered desk is a sign of a cluttered mind, of what, then, is an empty desk a sign?”

More curious to me is the creative energy people put into organization and order. Hence, the elaborate and, yes, creative desk organizing projects popping up all over pinterest.  I cannot help but admire some of the energy and fastidiousness that goes into these projects. But, I am not one of those people, at least when it comes to my desk.

I like my messy desk – yarns strewn, three books open at once, scribbled notes on scraps of paper – a desk like an inspiration board, filled with happy accidents, joyful juxtapositions, a riot of color, images and ideas. Yes, I like it just fine… until I can’t find the scribbled list, the piece of mail, the thread (literal or figurative) that I’m looking for. Frustrating, but not frustrating enough to incite me to organize. Now, with a science-based excuse, I expect my desk will remain in a state of chaos.

* image from a poster available on Amazon.com

“When I make something, I hear it”

Edmund.dewall.work1

My husband thinks true artists are necessarily a little odd, fundamentally different than the rest of us who schlep through life thinking about what to cook for dinner, who is going to do something about the construction-related traffic delays, and wondering, shouldn’t I really be exercising more?

He might be right, and isn’t the world a better place for it? That’s how I felt when I read a recent story in the New York Times about the ceramicist, Edmund de Waal. Mr. de Waal is better known (in my circle, at least) as the author of The Hare with Amber Eyes, a family memoir, and a favorite of my book club. He is also, as declared by the New York Times, “a celebrated potter, known for installations of impeccably made vessels in soft shades of celadon or white, many of them permanently displayed in places like the Victoria and Albert Museum.”

In the article about Mr. De Waal’s first upcoming exhibit in the U.S., I was struck by his statement that his work is “the language of sculpture, it’s about … poetry and words and the spaces between words and sounds. When I make something, I hear it.” The marriage of language and art, object and space in his statement makes me swoon.

He also seems to have translated the experience, the trance, the rapture of making something into words: “when I make something I hear it.” Is this is the altered state we all seek when taking on a creative project? I cringe to liken needlework, pinterest projects to the sublime work of Mr. De Waal, yet I believe creative aspirations have a common root. Some people, like Mr. DeWaal, are just more talented, more ambitious, more fully developed than the rest of us.

So, yes, my husband is probably right – true artists are fundamentally different than the rest of us because they live more fully in a creative, connected state of mind – that altered world where you can hear it, when you make something.

edmund.de.waal.1

* images from Edmund de Waal’s website.

Mindfulness and making things

I am a sucker for social science – studies about how people make decisions, learn better, or lead happy lives. I can never resist trying to connect such studies to my little slice of life. So when I read this recent post on the UC Berkley Greater Good Science Center blog, my wheels were spinning.

You can read the post or you can watch the TED talk by Matt Killingsworth but in a nutshell, research shows that ‘living in the moment’ or thinking about only what you are presently doing leads to greater happiness in the short run and in the long run.

I started thinking about the times when I am most likely to be “living in the moment” and thinking about the present, rather than what I’m going to make for dinner.

When am I most focused on the present? When engaged in something creative – taking or editing a photo, drawing, carving a stamp, sketching out a planting plan for my garden, or even writing a blog post. I am focused when making things… is that why creativity is so satisfying? Does a making things-happiness connection explain the explosion of DIY, upcycling, guerilla gardening in our culture?

Yes, there are other ways to quiet the mind and banish the tickertape of things to do, places to be, people to contact. Yoga, tennis, and a long walk come to mind, yet the simple (or sometimes not so simple) acts of creativity infuse life with its own special kind of joy. I have no idea if social science can back that up or not.