Q-106: “Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky.”

Whether or not they want to admit to something so pleibian... every photographer has at one time or another chased it. You are no different. With every camera you've gotten closer and closer, trying constantly to find the exactly combination of color and cover and distance that lends itself to the magic of it. Every evening is an analysis, are the conditions right, are the colors sharp enough, is there enough variety? You are on a constant and never-ending hunt for the perfect sunset.

Each place you've lived offered something unique, and there's never been any shortage of inspiration for it, and because no two are ever the same you've had lots of opportunity to practice. The downside of course, is that you actually take very few sunset shots-- because nothing ever looks quite right. But every now and then you think.. this is the night, this is the shot, this is the place...

And yet, when you get home and open the images, you fiddle with color and contrast and then... do the best you can before surrendering.

Sometimes, the color is wonderful... but the clouds are nonexistant

Sometimes the clouds are visually insteresting, but you aren't in a place where you can get a proper perspective on the evening



And every once in awhile, it seems like the setting is absolutely perfect-- but you can't hang around for true sunset, and the clouds won't cooperate... even if the rest of nature will



And there are the sunsets that can't be missed, sunsets that take your breath away for many reasons, be it the character of the sky or the contrast of the scenery
.

And sometimes, sadly no matter how beautiful the skies, your camera just isn't up to snuff...



But with each passing month you progress, refining your technique, learning and practicing, and every time you think... maybe this... maybe now... maybe this will be the magic shot.



So now, here you are... driving home and staring at the clouds-- hoping the rain will hold off for one more day. You decide to side-track to a new spot by the lake-- the one the Godmother showed you. You pull up and immediately know there's potential here, that this might be it... no, really... THIS might be The One. You park the car (semi-illegally), throw on your hazard lights, lock the door, and hike across the small ditch. You curse (as usual) having not brought your tripod and then start shooting.

Too light, too dark, too blurry (stupid tripod sitting at home). The light shifts, the clouds shift, the city stays the same. You second guess your position, your settings, your abilities. You take at least 20 shots, maybe 25... and then hope (as usual) that when you get them home something will happen.  

You open image after image and it seems possible. Individually they're striking-- the clouds swirl over the city and the colors are incredible. You spend hours at home, editing and adjusting, then reverting to your original images. The truth is the pictures themselves need to "fixing." But they do need... something. There is a scale that can't be grasped in the individual shots. An overwhelming awe that can't be seen in a single frame. And then you remember-- you remember reading about a feature in Photoshop. You google, hoping to find a way to do it in the more limited version that exists quietly on your computer for those tasks that can't be handled by Paint Shop Pro. Lo and Behold! Panoramic stitching.

You set up the process, realize it's going to take FOREVER on your rusty old laptop, and you leave it running while you go to dinner, hoping that upon your return something amazing will have happened... heck-- that ANYTHING will have happened.

In the door from dinner you cross your fingers and peek at the computer screen. A multi-layered image is waiting for your attention. You start to patch the holes and then decide it's easiest to patch if all 400 or so layers have been merged. The better to clone you with my darling.... or something like that.

To your surprise merging smoothes away the cracks and crevices and leaves you with a somewhat oddly shaped, but perfectly fused image. You select, and crop and re-size. Then soften the whole image by a step just to be sure the edges are invisible... and then you have it. You actually have it. And you realize you can't describe it, because some beauty defies description. Instead you save the image and realize that you've finally captured your own perfect sunset... at least until the next one.

Title Quote:

“Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky.” -- Rabindranath Tagore

Q-105: A (New) Traditional Sunday Afternoon

You have a new Sunday Tradition, thanks of course to the Godmother. She is the starter of many great traditions. Every Sunday begins about the same... a slow wake up. First one out of bed feeds the cats, last one out scoops the litterboxes. This is debatable... sometimes one or the other of you does both-- it depends on the mood, and how long it takes the last person up to actually get... up.

Then you discuss the plans for the day-- or lack thereof. You always start out with a list of things to do, stores to shop in... but then-- you look outside, see the clear sky, the sunshine, feel the almost-but-not-quite warm breeze and say... screw it-- it's picture time!

You make your plans, and then get in the car to re-discuss said plans. And as is usually the case on a Sunday the Godmother pulls out of the driveway and says, "We can always stop at Walmart on the way home... what do you feel like photographing today?"

And you're off. A quick jaunt around the lake is enough to tell you that without ANY clouds-- the scenes all look pretty much the same. You grab the only truly interesting shot (or at least what turns out to be the only interesting shot not ruined by motion blur)

Realizing the lake is not the place to capture today you decide to head downtown, take advantage of the sunshine and use it to play with the construction and offices in and around the West End. Your first usable shot is a beautiful example... the play of light on reflective towers, the cluster of the city.

As usual you're drawn to the patterns of the city, the repetitions, the meshing of olds and news, classic and steel-based. The absolute symmetry of windows and ledges, offices and apartments.

But even more than that, you love the shine, the sheen, the reflectivity of downtown... the way light bounces from building to building, shimmering like water in windows... reflections of reflections of reflections.

But beyond even that, beyond just the beauty of it, you realize something it took you 20 years to realize. Something you denied growing up the social wilds of California, something you denied by the sea in Oregon... something you never wanted to admit, but that you now can't deny-

These are not just reflections of A city.

This is your city. This is your heart. This is where you belong.