Vision

      It has been a remarkably hot and humid July. I confess that I haven't been handling the heat very well, this year. I keep asking everyone, "is it usually this hot?" They assure me it is but I'm not so sure. The very pleasant thing about Vermont is that, eventually, the weather changes. (Unlike California, in the summer, where it's hot and sunny with no rain for months at a time.) I know that I just have to hang on a little longer.

     In the meantime, I've had a tremendous struggle. Here I am, wanting to be a "photographer" - to just capture and share some of the beauty around me - and the light is as soft and beautiful as it could possibly be. Too many times, I've chosen a chair over a walk. This gorgeous evening, however, I couldn't resist the 7 minute drive in our air conditioned vehicle to chase this sunset from the vantage point of the dam. I had to help someone before I left, though, and wound up with a soft dusk instead.

     Honestly, these photos couldn't have been any clearer. This is a true representation of the hazy humidity. It feels as though you could scoop the air up in your hands and take a sip.

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     Anyway, about the view. When I first moved to Vermont, I found that I felt claustrophobic in my little town, nestled in the mountains. There didn't seem to be any wide open, flat spaces. Even the trees made me feel closed in - I couldn't see far because of them. I was used to the wide open spaces of the west. I mentioned this to a new friend of mine and she said that a friend of hers had told her, 

"Muriel, you need a good view at least once a week."

      In Vermont, when you climb to a vista, what you see is hill after hill after mountain range after mountain range stretching on and on. It's very good to know that there's so much beyond those hills and that my own life in this tiny town isn't the whole world. When I get my view, I have a sudden shocking realization that they don't cut me off - they are what's in between, what connects me to the outside. It's really the same with anything - the desert - the ocean - even "the other side of the tracks". These are really the connectors - not the dividers. My, it really gives one a feeling of Wanderlust!

 

     Well, I have to confess that a lot of lovely things have been coming my way. I got some money for my birthday and spent some of it on books. They came in the mail, yesterday. One was, Within the Frame: the Journey of Photographic Vision by David duChemin. I had seen this book at a large bookstore but didn't have the money to buy it at the moment. As I stood there reading, however, my heart was so incredibly moved. His words have an impact that is not for photography only. They moved me as a musician and as a woman with a beating heart, too. I've been on a 3 month search for it and, finally - finally - it's mine. As I was reading along, I read this about vision and connection:

Make Me Care

Shooting from the heart and telling the visual stories you love and care about is the first step in making your viewers care. If we do not tell stories in a way that people care about, we've failed. We've failed to create an image that connects on some level, failed to pull the viewer into the frame and show them something new. This doesn't mean we shoot only those things that others want to see. It means we shoot the things that move us in ways that will move others.

p.13 italics and bold added

     Maybe my images aren't quite living up to this ideal but it encourages me on. It makes me think about several things that I'm working on, right now: music, blogging, photography, gardening, yea, even how I make my home, and all the way through my spiritual life. With me, I want there to be a point. This definitely renews my vision - to connect. I just thought that his words are tremendously inspiring and wanted to share them with you. I hope that you all don't mind. Honestly, I hope that someone is resonating with this.

Funnily enough, this week's "The Creative Sunday's"  word is connect.

Here I was thinking of trains and tea rooms - all the while this thought and hope and struggle had been simmering in the back of my mind.

Well, that's me from the Vermont hills. Reaching out to you.

Katy

P.S. Oh, dearie me! I just thought of something. Do you remember that telephone slogan: "Reach out and touch someone"? =]

Madeline Bea's - The Sunday Creative: Connect