Healing with Color

After the revelations I learned about how other photographers cull through their work (see the August blog entry "to toss or not to toss"), I decided to make another pass through some of my fatter folders; to apply some of what I learned to the elimination process.

The first place to go was clearly my boat folders. And I do mean folders. I don't just have one folder labeled "Boats." Within that folder there are actually 23 sub-folders -- kayaks and canoes, sailboats, wooden boats, boat parts, prow reflections, tugboats... and lots more. And all of them are chock to the gills with photographs.

I love boats of all kinds, though I spend little to no time in them (although I did get married in a canoe!). I have a suspicion this affection for marine transport is something genetic -- my Swedish grandfather (on my father's side) was a sailor, and there's a great grandfather somewhere way back on my mother's side who was a steamboat captain on the Mississippi.

But my deepest affection is reserved for old painted dinghies, preferably floating on a still sea, shot in the early morning light with maybe a little fog for atmosphere. And much as I love the other work that I do -- and seldom as I go out to shoot boats these days -- most of my all-time favorite images fall into this category. Which means I find it hard to throw any of these away.

So, in my personal tradition of facing into a challenge -- did I ever mention that the first thing I ever made on my sewing machine was my first wedding dress? -- I decided to start with the ones that would be hardest to discard.

Fortunately my new understanding of the process stood me in good stead, and over the last two days I've been able to toss a lot of images, either because they really didn't have staying power, or because others that were similar were better. And part of the joy of that exercise, of course, was revisiting all those lovely photos.

This one, for example, which should have been in the boat parts folder, had been misfiled in the dinghies folder. When I looked at it I just got this wonderful clear warm settled feeling, and thought to myself, "This, THIS, is why I love to photograph boats."

I understand that it may not affect you in the same way. The composition is very staid and simple. But I ADORE the colors -- I love to mix shades of blue with a slight touch of yellowish or reddish orange. And when I let my eyes glaze over a bit the whole silverish lower portion of the image could become a forest, or a pattern of waves, or a mountain range. To me the mystery of that just enhances the work.

So nope, I have no brilliant observations to share with you this morning. Today, now that my body seems to be returning to health and regaining its strength, I am just reveling in the simple sensual pleasure of a single image, noticing my joyful response to its colors and forms. All part of the healing process, I'm sure!