Beyond the Glass

It seems like I've know the phrase "There's more to life than meets the eye" forever. I can't remember not knowing it. And like a lot of truisms, it doesn't really mean anything without further thought.

I look a my garden often. I can see it through the back window at the studio. Mainly, it's a exercise in procrastination. I tell myself I'm thinking about things. But I'm really looking at the pretty flowers, birds in the bath, and how it all fits together so nicely. Hmmm, maybe there is more going on there than I realize.

My approach to gardening is what I call controlled chaos. I spread seeds now and then, but I pretty much let the plants decide where they want to grow. And it's fascinating. They organize themselves so beautifully. All I have to do is water occasionally and enjoy.

When the cat goes outside, she has a completely different experience than me. I watch her sniff the air. I never think to do that. She knows the hummingbird is perched in the tall bush on the east side of the fence. She patiently waits for it to call. And she seems to find it all very entertaining.

More often than I care to admit, I photograph this garden - but only after spending a few minutes experiencing it. And months later, those pictures remind me of how much I enjoy summer mornings at the studio. It's like hearing a song from your high school days and remembering that girl who made you blush.

I know people who are struggling with life right now. And instead of a garden, everything looks like a wall. They can't figure out how to break through it to make something happen.

I want to help. Even though I'm not the preaching type, I want to tell them that there's more to life than a canvas of obstacles. There's some sort of organizing power behind it. And if you gently push your finger against the surface, you might be able to feel the pulse. Then new ideas appear. It's a kind of magic, really.

This is what happens when I put the camera down for a moment. I have a better sense of what's going on behind the canvas. Then I bring it back up to my eye and take a picture. Now I have a bookmark for the moment.

I love photography. Because my pictures not only show me where I've been, they remind me of how I felt. There's magic behind those images. And when people say there's more to life than meets the eye, that's what I think they're talking about.

-Derrick

A Stroll by the Mantel

I was alone downstairs the other night, with two lights on and the French doors open. The breeze blowing through them helped cool the house.

I was standing in front of the fireplace looking at the pictures that spanned the length of the mantel. I hadn't noticed them for a while. There were many new additions.

This is the place where all the family photographs are enshrined. We keep threatening to hang them on the wall in the hallway. But we never get to it. It's less spontaneous than placing them on the mantel.

If we were to hang these images, we'd have to make decisions. Who would make the cut? Do we go with the group shots from Hawaii or Paris? Shall we go with grandma as a young woman, or the shot recorded just weeks before she passed away? Nope, too much work. I'm more comfortable with serendipity.

Some prints just show up on the mantel. Many of them don't even have frames. They're propped up against someone else, looking like unannounced visitors just stopping by. I think most of them are friends of the kids. I know some of their names.

My personal favorites are the family shots. Because I have long arms, I'm pretty good at capturing group selfies. I know selfies get a bad rap these days, but I like them. They force family members to squeeze in tight against one another - something we don't normally do. One of my favorites is a B&W I took of us with the Eiffel Tower in the background. Boy, that was a great day.

I spend a lot of time writing about how to share photos online: Dropbox, iCloud, Flickr, Instagram, Facebook, and countless others. Those services certainly have their place. And when you can't be near those you love, receiving an email attachment is a wonderful surprise.

But when I'm missing my boys this Fall, I probably won't be combing through the image library on my Mac. Most likely, I'll take another stroll by the mantel and soak in those memories for a few minutes. I never get tired of those photographs.

Once I've had my fix, I'll close the French doors, turn off the lights, and thank God for my good fortune.

-Derrick

Tossed Aside

It's amazing how many rituals I have.

When I get home, the car keys go on top of the family room hutch and my shoes go beneath. The backpack with my camera gear fits perfectly on the left side where there's a small space between the furniture and heating vent. 

I say hello to whoever is downstairs. I then take a seat on the couch for a few minutes, check my iPhone, and head upstairs to freshen up.

It's like clockwork. And I have a similar sequence for departing.

No one else in the house behaves this way. Generally speaking, items are shed in random locations as each member arrives. Car keys may be tossed on the dining table, floor, couch, rocking chair, ottoman, or inside a backpack or purse. Items then must be relocated and retrieved before departure.

In an already messy world, that approach just wouldn't work for me.

For the most part, I know where all my stuff is at any given moment. My backpack represents my utopia. Each lens has its home and is never misplaced. The laptop slides into a dedicated compartment, spare batteries go in a specific pocket, and the iPad is quickly accessible from the top.

My question is: "Did I develop this obsession because I'm a photographer, or the other way around?"

Few things are more unsettling than having a great photo opp appear before me, and my not being able to find the right lens to capture it. A misplaced battery to replace one that just died can drive me nuts in the middle of a shoot. So, there are practical reasons for my organization.

But there's an emotional component too. Life is messy. 

There are so many thing of which I have no control. Most things in fact. And as far as I can see, there's no formula for success. In fact, survival is a crap shoot.

My camera bag is the one thing that I have complete control over. Its contents were selected because of their practical value and aesthetic nature. There's no surplus, no waste, no inefficiency. And most importantly, there's no room for cruelty, ignorance, and greed.

When life just doesn't make any sense - which is a daily occurrence - I can open my camera bag and marvel at its logic.

After a few minutes,  I take a deep breath, zip it closed, and head back into that messy world.

-Derrick

The Cure for Shyness

One of my most difficult social settings is a party where I don't know anyone.

Small talk really isn't my thing. Part of it is, I don't enjoy waxing on about my own accomplishments. I don't like to be drunk in public.  And I don't care how much money someone makes. So there goes 75 percent of the conversation right out the window.

These are the times that I love being a photographer.

Instead of standing there like a statue with a drink in my hand, I can circulate through the crowd looking for interesting images. I have something to do. I can be myself.

Photography is my cure for shyness. I'm not an introvert. I actually like interacting with people. But I need something interesting to talk about. And taking pictures often opens that door.

The only thing better than a camera is a puppy.  Bring one to a park and you don't have to do anything. Just stand there with a dog and people race toward you with a smile on their face. Too bad they don't rent puppies for social events.

So instead, I bring my mirrorless. The moment I feel trapped in a meaningless exchange, I say: "Excuse me, there's a photo over there I want to capture. Nice chatting with you."

OK, I admit it, I'm not perfectly honest at cocktail hour. But my intentions are good. And if I take your picture, that might start a conversation that we both enjoy.

And I would like that very much.

-Derrick

Opting for Plan B

I've never understood success.

Why is it that some things are wildly popular while others remain anonymous?

Have you ever noticed that if people don't want something, you can't give it away? Lowering the price only prolongs the agony. Remember the Hasselblad Stellar? It was released for $2,195. You can buy it today, brand new, for $895. And I bet they're still not selling. I'm sure Hasselblad thought it was a good idea when they created it. Who knew?

We all run into this, one way or another. We're creative. We make things. Many of us hope that others will appreciate our efforts.

If I post a photo on Instagram, I check back in a couple hours to see how many likes it has garnered. When I release a new title on lynda.com, I want to know how it's performing in relation to others on the site. I find positive reinforcement motivating.

Some artists say they don't care how others respond to their work. I think I know what they're getting at. The act of creating is rewarding in itself. That's true. But, just like having a quiet moment to oneself is satisfying... as long as that isn't a permanent condition.

Lack of success is often mystifying.

I have a lot of empathy for talented people who are unsuccessful. Most of the time, I can't figure out why. The ideas seem good, The work ethic is there. Yet, failure engulfs the project like a curse that can't be seen as it repels from all sides.

To tell the truth, I've never been wildly successful myself. I've had my victories over the years, and I'm lucky enough to make a living doing what I love. By the same token, however, if I let go of the rope for even a moment, I'll surely drift off into oblivion. To me, that's not success; that's a job.

So what is the deciding factor? How can anyone predict if their work will be successful or not? I doubt there's a concrete answer. So we opt for Plan B.

We leverage the little victories into momentum. This is why we need to celebrate the good things that happen. They provide the fuel that we'll need to get through the next day.

When someone complements your work, acknowledge that. Soak it in. Every success should be squeezed for all its goodness.

Odds are that neither you nor I will ever be rich or famous. But we can be happy.

Because the one thing we have control over is perception. When we learn how to see what is good and then show the wisdom to embrace it, we live to create another day.

And we all know that anything can happen tomorrow.

-Derrick