Seeing 2009 (#109)

Tonight's submission is a pair of studies of simplicity and serenity. These were taken at Hosteling International's Hostel at Point Reyes Station, the morning after the image from Post #107.

The first scene contains some interesting compositional elements: the triangular shape of the fog-enshrouded hill is echoed by the nose of the surfboard (the tip of which is subtly repeated many times by the roof's edge); the vertical lines in the roof are mimicked in the wall at the canvas edge; the descending slope of the background finds a parallel in the descending building height as well. This pastoral depiction of a quiet morning contains a surprising array of triangles, rectangles and leading lines.

The second photograph is a considerably simpler vision of an unexpected adornment, a basic suggestion of peace and tranquility -- offered as an antidote for this frenzied shopping season.

Namaste.

* * *


Private Early Morning, Pt. Reyes Station, #3649

(c)2009 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details: September 28, 2008; Canon 20D; f/10 @ 1/125 sec; - 2/3 EV; ISO 800; 35mm.

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Star Door, Pt. Reyes Station, #3653

(c)2009 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details: September 28, 2008; Canon 20D; f/10 @ 1/200 sec; - 2/3 EV; ISO 800; 64mm.

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Seeing 2009 (#108)

For your consideration: an ordinary, perhaps even mundane study of a wash basin.

However, subtle compositional complexities might be discovered here. At first glance this image conveys a scene of repetitious rectangular elements, sharp angles and abruptly plunging vectors. Within this schema exists a secondary pattern, that of spherical objects echoing one another: the round drain is mimicked by the trio of overflow openings . . . which share a geometrical symmetry with the threesome of chrome fixtures . . . for which an easily overlooked kinship exists in the trey-spotted cup. The scene represents a congregation of diametrically opposed essential forms: squares and circles.

Two other aspects of this setting drew me in as worthy of a photographic subject. Initially, the sink in and of itself is superficially perceived as a weighty, static object affixed to the wall. Yet, the effects of the shadows combined with the slice of flooring below and the action of the dynamic lines of the tiles provide a surprising sense that the porcelain is somehow floating in space, hovering, maybe even rising to meet us.

Secondly, this humble subject is perceived as unremarkable due to our primary assumption of its use: washing hands and faces, brushing teeth . . . Consider how differently might this very same item be viewed were it instead titled Baptistry? Simply by altering the label associated with the scene an expected aura of holiness, sacredness, spirituality would be present. Thus, the opportunity and willingness to see broader possibilities can significantly change our perception of the object at hand, reminding us of the constrictions imposed by unchallenged familiarities and expectations.

Sink, #3254

(c)2009 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details: May 17, 2009; Canon 20D; f/11 @ 1/3 sec; - 2/3 EV; ISO 200; 20mm.

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Seeing 2009 (#107)

Tonight's submission: an utterly unexpected, delightful -- and quite brief -- "photo op" of sorts.

I was on a mini-road trip with friends Brad, Jerry and Dave . . . we were on our way to the Pt. Reyes Station Youth Hostel for the night, to be followed by a visit to the Spirit Rock Meditation Center the next morning.

Prior to arriving at the spectacular Golden Gate Bridge we had been mired in thick traffic, and had stopped to grab something to eat in hopes that the commute would lighten. By taking the time to nosh we unknowingly put ourselves right-on-schedule to encounter the extremely rare vision of a pair of aircraft, complete with smoke trail, making multiple passes over the entrance to San Francisco Bay: after crossing the bridge we agreed to make a quick side trip to the visitor's center in order to take in the commanding view it offers; right after getting out of our cars these planes appeared.

I had little time to grab my camera, make hasty exposure setting adjustments, and snapped off hurried shots in hope of capturing the graceful and amazing aerobatic display. I did my best to compose the shots reasonably, but only a couple of the resulting images met my criteria. This is one of them.

The apparent ease and grace with which these craft repeatedly soared overhead was a sweet antidote for the (minor) sl0w-travel frustrations; these scene also proved to be a lovely allegory for the lightness of spirit we encountered via meditation the next day.

Golden Gate Flyover, #3624

(c)2009 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details: September 27, 2008; Canon 20D; f/11 @ 1/400 sec; ± 0 EV; ISO 400; 17mm.

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Seeing 2009 (#106)

It's been a very long and draining week.

In that spirit, tonight's submission consists of two images depicting simplicity of composition. Each photograph makes particularly efficient use of negative space and strong lighting to provide an ironic sense of energy: despite an utter lack of overt motion in either canvas, the significant textures combined with strong angular shapes and vectors speak to considerable action just beneath the surface.

Both tableaux illustrate a paradox: the power of shadows -- elements by definition completely devoid of substance -- to provide the essence and potency in a composition, often supplanting the importance of far more concrete and weightier objects.

* * *

Leaf Shadow, #5292

(c)2009 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details: October 23, 2009; Canon 20D; f/11 @ 1/125 sec; - 2/3 EV; ISO 100; 59mm.

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25 MPH Shed, #4196

(c)2009 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details: November 28, 2009; Canon 20D; f/11 @ 1/400 sec; - 2/3 EV; ISO 100; 49mm.

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Seeing 2009 (#105)

For your consideration, the contrasts of night-and-day imagery, mood, and perspectives on destiny.

The first offering continues the series of "Drive-By Shootings", taken from the passenger seat of Jerry's truck as he drove us home from an evening visit to SF MoMA. This type of abstract has a visceral appeal to me, and works on several levels. For one, the rich and vibrant colors, heightened by the contrasting dark sky. This creation also speaks to idea of reality as very much a fluid, ethereal and ultimately elusive notion . . . all things are in motion, beginning at the molecular level, and we're simply along for the ride. It is comforting to realize, as this image attempts to convey, that magnificent beauty and power can be perceived within these dynamic and constant changes, when we allow ourselves to alter our perspective.

The second image was recorded just today, which was bone-chillingly cold and breezy. I'd gone to the top level of a city parking garage in order to take some photographs of the nearby hills, which were blanketed with snow - a rare event locally. On my way back towards shelter this juxtaposition presented itself: the Exit sign, the egress, and the distant cathedral . . . the implication being that passage from this mortal coil to what awaits is a heavenly destination. However, the sign suggests a different outcome: it warns to take your ticket with you, but (in the fine print) comes the caveat, "No cashier at exit." Something of a bleak, existentialist verdict, one befitting a particularly wintry day. (I still haven't gotten warm!)

* * *



Abstract (Warning Sign), #4196

(c)2009 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details: October 22, 2009; Canon 20D; f/8 @ 2.5 sec; - 2/3 EV; ISO 400; 55mm.

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7th Heaven (No Cashier At Exit), #5728

(c)2009 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details: December 8, 2009; Canon 20D; f/11 @ 1/200 sec; - 2/3 EV; ISO 200; 76mm.

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Seeing 2009 (#104)

Two nights ago (December 5, 2009) I was honored to be one of three featured artists at a private home. Roughly forty people took time out of their holiday calendars to attend. One of the artists, Lisa Francesca, presented fantastic collages, sketches, paintings and mixed media; Michelle Padidar gave her very first public reading, a deeply moving autobiographical story of the cultural upheaval she experienced when leaving her native Iran for the United States in the midst of the 1979 revolution. I of course brought some of my images to exhibit.

It was a wonderful and fulfilling soirée. For me Michelle's story was far and away the most memorable and potent part of the evening: we all sat in rapt attention as her harrowing tale unfolded, and before she finished several listeners were in tears. Her story literally touched souls.

It's been like that of late: life passages not always easy to navigate. Last month I was summoned to Arizona in order to eventually ask that my mother be removed from life support; she passed 13 hours later. On my last day of work before embarking on that trip I discovered that one of my colleagues at work - a librarian - had just received news of her father's death that very day . . . this was November 2nd, and she had been planning to travel to her father's bedside on November 4th, as she knew he was gravely ill (and in his 90s). That he passed away before she could say her goodbyes was clearly a difficult blow.

Today, besides being Pearl Harbor Day, was also a day my family and I attended a memorial service for the uncle of a dear friend, a man who died far too young. The services were held in a Catholic church of the Portuguese vein, and so was classically, conservatively and majestically anointed and appointed with multitudes of angels, Saints, and multiple Christs. It was quite beautiful, despite the distressing occasion. The Rosary and Mass, combined with the rather formal offerings of condolences to the man's family members, profoundly evoked the potency of life and death's inseparable, cyclical duality.

Thus tonight's offering: a portrait of somber yet reverent yearning, an image from within the chapel at the St. Francis Retreat Center in the hills above San Juan Bautista. For me this image evokes the grace of acceptance, and depicts the notion that amidst loss and separation there also exists brightness and light in the very fact of living, and beauty drapes our souls even as we grieve.

Reverence (The Graceful Scarf), #4196

(c)2009 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details: August 9, 2009; Canon 20D; f/11 @ 1/20 sec; - 2/3 EV; ISO 400; 55mm.

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Seeing 2009 (#103)

Pardon, please, for the relatively long absence: the onslaught of the holiday season has commenced. Let the mall parking lot skirmishes begin!

In that vein, perhaps: a submission which offers a juxtaposition of warriors from different eras. On the one hand, a trio battles it out (tough guys ironically well-padded) in a frozen version of an ancient Colosseum, frantically rushing to score . . . while a far larger, heroic figure holds a pose epitomizing confidence, serenity and an apparent disinterest, if not quite disdain, for the chaos and conflicts of modernity. I'm with the statue.

Faceoff, #5098

(c)2009 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details: October 17, 2009; Canon 20D; f/5.6 @ 1/20 sec; -1 1/3 EV; ISO 800; 85mm.

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Seeting 2009 (#102)

This submission is a mea culpa.

In my prior post I allowed my beloved brother Eric a single line of recognition - his birthday was yesterday - but then, rather too characteristically, I rushed on to the next topic (that being an image I shot yesterday, about which I was quite excited). Combined with my sister Ami's astounding work as a makeup artist in the film industry, I'm blessed and amazed to have a pair of inspiring siblings.

Thus, this evening a rare offering of images of an individual . . . and what an amazing individual: my brother is one of the most broadly and deeply artistically endowed people I've ever met. I took up photography years ago in no small part because I could never manage to draw well . . . my brother with seeming ease can reproduce complex illustrations freehand. I struggle mightily to write; he is a natural wordsmith and a much deeper thinker on top of it. I can play the radio, stereo, and kazoo . . . Eric was once a solo saxophonist in a jazz band, and continues to expand his considerable guitar skills in just the latest of his bands, Pegataur.

The first image was taken as Eric and his Pegataur band-mate Aaron played, live, in the extremely cramped San Jose State University radio station. I took quite a few shots through the wire-mess safety glass of the studio door; the sturdy barrier effectively kept me out but did little to suppress the enthusiasm and energy of the high velocity notes from within. (I was particularly exited to be taking these images, as the studio is in the building immediately adjacent to the Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. library, where I'd just started a new job only three days before!)

The second photograph was taken on a BART ride at the end of a San Francisco shopping experience -- I'd joined Eric et. al. to be fitted as a wedding-party member for Eric and his now-wife Sharon's nuptials.

* * *

Eric Plays, #1933

(c)2009 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details: December 6, 2008; Canon 20D; f/6.3 @ 1/10 sec; -2/3 EV; ISO 1600; 61mm.

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Eric and BART rider, #2941

(c)2009 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details: May 2, 2009; Canon 20D; f/6.3 @ 1/60 sec; -1 EV; ISO 800; 85mm.

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Seeing 2009 (#101)

Happy birthday to my beloved brother Eric . . .

Tonight's submission is a simple study of light and shadow, as well as both obvious and subtle compositional symmetries.

It is also the result of what I term a "extemporaneously premeditated" image: without even thinking of photography I spied several of my wife's candle accessories on a white table, brilliantly illuminated by early afternoon sunlight . . . the wonderfully complex shadows cast by these glass pieces belie the superficially perfect smoothness of their ovoid forms. It was this revealing illusion of surface verses content which unexpectedly caught my eye, immediately grabbed my attention, and lead me to deliberately arrange the objects between the coincident slashing hints of the window blinds (the very same which form the basis of Post #100).

Only after taking several versions of this arrangement did it occur to me that this image has its ancestry in my earliest efforts at photography, circa 1973 . . . My very first conscious attempt to create an unexpected and surprising abstraction from an ordinary found object utilized a beautiful, squat blown-glass bottle of my grandmother's, deliberately cracked and featuring a striking continuum of hues from deep red to yellow. On a late afternoon in Tucson I cracked open the front door of my grandparents' house, noted the narrow and blinding vector of sun cutting across the deep green carpet floor, and immediately wondered what it would look like to see the jar's spidery, colored glass shadow imposed upon that surface. The resulting 4"x6" 35mm print came out far better than I'd expected (it resembled a comet streaking across a pea soup sky), and was the genesis of my penchant for abstract imagery derived from ordinary settings.

Votives, #5589

(c)2009 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details: November 21, 2009; Canon 20D; f/11 @ 1/400 sec; -2/3 EV; ISO 200; 31mm.

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Seeing 2009 (#100)

I've been contemplating the nature of this submission for several days: the image has been readied for perhaps a week now, but my consciousness has struggled to formulate the attending narrative. At this point I've little optimism that a breakthrough of sparkling clarity is forthcoming, thus I'll offer what I may tonight.

I took this image the morning after returning from the harrowing, healing, surreal and sublime trip to Arizona, barely forty-eight hours after my mother's "passing." I'd not been out of bed long when my attention was grasped by the interplay of shadows, silky textures and the striking swaths of light on the living room blinds. Barely awake, I was already aware of two things: the first hints of emotional grief -- Reality -- were beginning to set in . . . and this scene demanded my artistic attention as a therapeutic exercise.

Mortality was on my mind, and this composition evoked a strong sense of hope -- that beyond the most fundamental mystery of human existence, past the dark veil, perhaps our soul regroups and enjoys limitless bliss in choreographed dances with kindred spirits.

Thus I present here a serendipitous composition which carries complex and significant emotional weight in the context of recent developments . . . The translucent material stands in for the notion of the passage through life's end and towards the unknown; the curtains effectively blind us to what truly is on The Other Side; currents of mystery seemingly swirl around with dark places just out of sight. Yet those lovely, arcing rays of white light suggest pure, joyously rising souls, our very essence, continuing on -- perhaps to reemerge into bright and expansive spaces and (and renewed life) coyly suggested by the glow seeping between those otherwise opaque slats. Hence: Death, as an illusion.

The Blind Veil (Spirits Dancing), #5544

(c)2009 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details: November 8, 2009; Canon 20D; f/11 @ 1/60 sec; -2/3 EV; ISO 100; 42mm.

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Seeing 2009 (#99)

Tonight's submission for your consideration: intrigue from imperfection.

The past few postings concern themselves largely with mortality and its attendant pain; this entry, a macro view of a leaf, provides not only an alternative perspective but also the possibility ironically opposite dualities . . .

One interpretation might be that of an impending fertilization: a barrier is about to be penetrated by an approaching vessel, laden with long strands of encoded material from which a new form may arise, trailing a wake in an intensely organic milieu. Or: the approaching form can be seen as the container of an aging life's remains, nearing the threshold separating one existence from the next, where rising currents point to an elevated and as-yet-undefined experience "on the other side."

The Approach (Gamete), #3358

(c)2009 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details: July 19, 2008; Canon 20D; f/8 @ 1/250 sec; -1 EV; ISO 200; 56mm.

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Seeing 2009 (#98)

Excuse the absence -- tonight's offering hints at the state of my emotional interior since returning from Arizona.

The scene here is the tunnel at the junction of Highway 92 and I-280, and is another selection from the series of images I recorded during my ride home from an evening in San Francisco.

A case study in the power of life experiences to inform one's art . . . but with a surreal twist: taken a fortnight before I was faced with the task of having my mother removed from life support, this photograph acutely presages the delayed grief which seems to be where I'm headed in the wake of her passing.

For the past few days now my emotions have seemed to be encapsulated in a vehicle rushing towards the unknown -- I'm not sure who's driving and the route is unfamiliar. Usually simple matters are not necessarily so . . . I missed a much anticipated breakfast with a dear friend a few days ago which brought on considerable distress; the ensuing days have been rife with inflamed psychic nerves close to the surface.

This submission suggests a coördinated amalgamation of chaotic velocity, considerable energy and an ever changing trajectory, a certain route towards darkness. Even so, the future is not quite so pessimistic: guiding lights are present on all sides, and all tunnels eventually end with an emergence into fresh air. As I embark on the spiritual and emotional journey which is mine to experience in the coming days, weeks and months (who knows how long?), I draw comfort and strength knowing I'm surrounding by wise, compassionate, and loving family and friends.

Into The Tunnel/Impending Unknowns, #5253

(c)2009 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details: October 22, 2009; Canon 20D; f/5.0 @ 1/3 sec; -2/3 EV; ISO 400; 33mm.

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Seeing 2009 (#97)

Tonight's offering reflects the condition of my spirit after returning from a visit to my soul's origin, that being Tucson and its surroundings. The sojourn was a painful one, a call to duty to shepherd my biological mother's ravaged and tortured body to as peaceful of a demise as possible.

A decade had passed since we last saw one another; the exile which ensued was mutually agreed upon. In her final days her condition rapidly deteriorated, to the extent that she could only lie helpless in the sterility and chaos characteristic of ICU units, no longer able to enunciate her desires as to treatment. No written instructions existed; the caring physicians reached the conclusion that she was beyond recovery by the time I was sought out to play the role of final arbitrator.

To see this once powerful, vibrant, intelligent and yes, too often bellicose woman so utterly vulnerable was beyond heartbreaking. As she lay in a hospital bed, head immobile and her life sustained by a respiration tube -- a painfully ironic umbilical cord -- it was impossible to discern any longer just how cognizant she was in those last hours. My reaction to this opaque consciousness was beyond my own capacity to comprehend - my own psyche was a surreal experience, a teraa incognita.

Early in the morning of November 4, 2009, at the wise and perceptive suggestion of my loving and wholly, wonderfully and fiercely supportive wife Julianna, I took a drive out to the peace, beauty and spirituality of Gate's Pass. There I spent 90 minutes or so in mediation, prayer, and a myriad of unrecognizable emotions. I sought direction, insight, wisdom, strength and perhaps even a bit of solace, confronted with what has been by far the hardest decision to make in my life, to instruct the doctors to cease sustaining the effort to keep my mother in a state barely resembling living.

I took this image as I left the desert for my car, about to begin the drive back to the very institution where Johanna Lynn gave me birth, and thus life on this planet, where I would affirm the necessity of letting her depart this mortal coil. I do believe she is finally at peace, perhaps for the first time in her existence. Requiescat in pace, March 8, 1941 - November 5, 2009.

Peace too will eventually come to me; I am truly graced and deeply blessed with tremendous support from a host of close friends and a loving family. For now, this giant green thorny entity aptly depicts my swirling state of mind, complete with heretofore unknown and newly revealed psychic appendages.

Saguaro (A Gates Pass Denizen), #5537

(c)2009 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details: November 4, 2009; Canon 20D; f/16 @ 1/400 sec; -2/3 EV; ISO 200; 18mm.

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Seeing 2009 (#96)

For your consideration: a study of angularities, and light's transformative and revelatory nature. This submission neatly represents my favorite mode of creative expression, that being the potential of an ordinary, often rarely noticed scene to be viewed as a potent abstract canvas. The setting is one of the many study rooms located in my workplace.

The transitive aspect of sunlight is what gives this composition its primary thrust and potency. Innumerable photons ever so briefly skimmed the plane's surface, yielding a surprising beam resembling interstellar dust, its many constituent particles vanishing in a moment as the sun's attention moved on. This tableau speaks again to Impermanence: the chain's orbs and the particles are illuminated and revealed only temporarily, as is true of all things . . . as George Harrison sang, All Things Must Pass.

Abstract #5500

(c)2009 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details: October 30, 2009; Canon 20D; f/11 @ 1/60 sec; -1/3 EV; ISO 400; 33mm.

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Seeing 2009 (#95)

Just for fun: Halloween offerings for your viewing pleasure. The first submission is that of some apparently Casperesque, friendly ghosts; this "pseudonatural" shot was recorded on a stranger's lawn next door to a friend's house. If all ghouls were as good humored as Mr Red I'd have had far less fear of the closet door in my childhood. This pair seems somewhat more mischievous than malevolent.

The second photograph is that of a Day of the Dead (El Día de los Muertos) exhibition in the Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., library. The artistry and attention to detail in the originals are exquisite and breathtakingly beautiful. And, despite their handsomeness, these spirits are not quite so as inviting as the first image's lawn denizens.

Glowing Ghosts #5304

(c)2009 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details: October 23, 2009; Canon 20D; f/11 @ 8 secs; -1 EV; ISO 100; 55mm.

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Dead Head #5293

(c)2009 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details: October 23, 2009; Canon 20D; f/8 @ 1/13 sec; -1 EV; ISO 400; 56mm.

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Seeing 2009 (#94)

Tonight's offering is the first published panorama attempt for me, a composite of 9 images taken between 7:20am and 7:23am. I was forced to crop a considerable amount, especially from the bottom, due to Photoshop's blending/splicing methodology.

Beyond the necessary trimming and resizing (the result of the merging process was a +268MB file size!) I've applied virtually no adjustments to this submission; the coloration is representative of the early lighting appropriately thirty minutes before sunrise. Near the far left edge is Mission Peak; the right edge is nearly due South, with Mt. Umunhum unfortunately just beyond the frame.

I'd never before been in the structure from which this shot was taken. Prior to arriving I'd high hopes of capturing at least the upper floors of the Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. library against the backdrop of the Diablo Range and impending appearance of ole Sol, but the unexpectedly tall building across the street eliminated that perspective.

This isn't my most artistic effort, but it was quite an enjoyable experience photographing the birth of a new day. Be sure to open the image to its full size for a much better detail, especially the low-laying fog against the foothills.

San Jose Dawn From Axis Building, #5309-5317

(c)2009 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details: October 24, 2009; Canon 20D; f/8 @ 10 secs; ±0 EV; ISO 100; 18mm.

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Seeing 2009 (#93)

For your consideration: after a series of highly charged abstract night scenes, an early morning setting featuring a tightly structured tableau speaking to serenity and silence. Perhaps coffee is brewing, a newspaper being retrieved, and an unknown visitor soon to settle in for a quiet antidote for the adventures of the prior evening . . .

Still, the composition evokes a subtle tension, by means of leaving the primary elements incomplete and thus somewhat abstract despite their familiarity.

Early Morning Geometry Study, #5395

(c)2009 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details: October 24, 2009; Canon 20D; f/8 @ 1/250 sec; -2/3 EV; ISO 200; 61mm.

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Seeing 2009 (#92)

At friend at work sent me an email yesterday afternoon which lead to a wonderful experience today: "Sunrise for Shutterbugs." The setting: a couple of east-facing balconies in an empty 21st-floor condominium, a newly built structure in downtown San Jose. The time: pre-sunrise (ergo the event's title) until 9.00am. The weather: fabulous, if a tad hazy.

This gathering was arranged by another photographer (and her fellow-photographer-husband). Ostensibly the purpose was to garner some measure of publicity for the largely empty glass edifice; those of us who participated (perhaps ten fellow artists overcame bed-gravity) can enter images in an upcoming photography contest associated with the building. On a larger level, however, several of us compared notes and we may form a new Google-based photo group. I am enthusiastic about the prospect: it seems that amongst the potential members exists a broad range of complimentary areas of expertise . . . thus we can all learn a great deal from one another, and I have much to learn!

I shot perhaps 100 images this morning; after a visit to University Art for framing/matting supplies I came home and have spent the majority of the afternoon attempting to craft a few versions of a print for which I have a buyer . . . I've just shipped the results via the web for printing, and after a much needed nap I'm off to see if at least one passes muster. If so I plan to matte and frame the image this evening, for delivery this week.

None of which pertains to this submission, another offering Thursday night's (photographic) drive-by shootings . . .

Abstract (The Speed of Light), #5250

(c)2009 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details: October 22, 2009; Canon 20D; f/5.0 @ 2.5 secs; -2/3 EV; ISO 400; 30mm.

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Seeing 2009 (#91)

For your consideration: an extemporaneous study in geometry, motion and electric atmospherics.

Earlier this evening I had the great pleasure of joining friends for a journey north, to San Francisco's SF MoMA, to view the current Richard Avedon installation. We embarked on our jaunt later than planned, thus we had but very limited time to survey this amazing body of work. Even so, it was an extremely impressive, and surprisingly (to me) nuanced exhibit. Fortunately it will be on display through November 29, 2009; I intend to return with Julianna for a more leisurely and considered absorption of Mr Avedon's vision.

Not only was there too little time to give the show its due, but it was also unfortunate that tomorrow is a work day: this evening's weather in San Francisco was absolutely perfect - clear, temperate and without any hint of wind. It would've been wonderful to linger late into the night, simply wandering the streets; as I (alone) had my camera I secretly yearned to seek out promontories from which to photograph various aspects of the city's skyline. Hmm . . . perhaps a solo return visit tomorrow night?

No matter. Being quite pleased with some of the driving rain imagery I took earlier this week -- and having awakened a long suppressed desire to explore the depiction of motion in my work -- I put my camera to good use during the ride home this evening. In contrast to the storm shots, haphazardly taken while driving, tonight I had the luxury of riding in the passenger seat and thus was able to deliberately compose and concentrate strictly on the potential photogenic aspects of the swiftly unfolding scenery streaming past the car windows. I am pleased with several of the results, the first of which I offer here.

Abstract (Triangulation Impact), #5279

(c)2009 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details: October 22, 2009; Canon 20D; f/10 @ 4 secs; -2/3 EV; ISO 400; 27mm.

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Seeing 2009 (#90)

This time, a personally unprecedented offering: a composite image constructed from two photographs taken months apart. Forgive the roughness of it -- I'm not yet nearly the master of digital post-processing I strive to become.

Over the course of many years I've often reflected upon the mysteries of courtship, romance, and how frequently it seems risky to reveal our true selves, particularly in those first, tentative encounters. This submission attempts to comment on this struggle.

Blind Date #1

(c)2009 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details - Head: April 18, 2009; Canon 20D; f/11 @ 5 secs; -2/3 EV; ISO 100; 80mm.

Details - Torso: October 17, 2009; Canon 20D; f/16 @ 8 secs; -1/3 EV; ISO 200; 49mm.

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Seeing 2009 (#89)

Two offerings in this post, reflective of the vast spectrum of possibilities, hopes, optimism and the onslaught of stormy weather and challenging moods and experiences.

Yesterday morning the crisp and first image's marvelously painted sky bespoke of a clear day ahead, and carried a sense of good tidings and positive outcomes, much of which came to pass. However, as the second image illustrates, physical, emotional and perhaps even spiritual atmospheres can be subject to rapid change and sometimes deterioration: the sky was clear outside today but my own interior was hit an unexpected shift to slippery, dreary and turbulent conditions. C'est la vie. This too shall pass.

Morning Clouds, #5176

(c)2009 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details: October 19, 2009; Canon 20D; f/5.6 @ 1/80 sec; -2/3 EV; ISO 100; 45mm.

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Driving Rain, #5214

(c)2009 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details: October 19, 2009; Canon 20D; f/11 @ 1/4 sec; -2/3 EV; ISO 100; 39mm.

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Seeing 2009 (#88)

Tonight's submission: the first subject I countered during last weekend's extemporaneous late evening meanderings around Campbell's downtown district.

I found this storefront window tableau bemusing, thanks to the arrangement of an incongruous bauble laden miniature Eiffel Tower near a suggestively female mannequin's feet. The juxtaposition of diminutive statue and looming curvaceous form reminded me of a long-ago wry lyric from a 1960s female singer, Melanie: "anything is a phallic symbol if it's longer than it's wide."

Glowing Pink Model with Yellow Light, #5101

(c)2009 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

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Details: October 17, 2009; Canon 20D; f/7.1 @ 1/15 sec; -2/3 EV; ISO 800; 28mm.

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Seeing 2009 (#87)

Tonight's submission: a scene I couldn't resist . . . a street fair shuttered for the evening, largely unremarkable were it not for a shirt peculiarly modeled in midair.

In obsessive fashion I spent an hour creating twenty-two varied images of the floating chemise and its surroundings. (I might have shot more, but I grew weary of the endless supply of intoxicated pedestrians who in apparent oblivion wandered through the scene; the obnoxious factor predictably rose in proportion with the passage of time.) In the days to come I will post several more from the resulting collection.

Here, perhaps another reflection on impermanence and Dukkah: two torsos, missing their heads. One seems more at peace with the notion than the other.

Nightshirt Self-Portrait (For Lease), #5123

(c)2009 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

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Details: October 17, 2009; Canon 20D; f/16 @ 10 secs; -1 EV; ISO 400; 27mm.

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Seeing 2009 (#86)

For your consideration: a study in contrasts on several levels: confinement verses the freedom to roam; chaos and serenity; acute, formal and imposed structures set against a vista of serendipitous simplicity.

Here also exists subtle and explicit compositional symmetries . . . the tracks echo the wall's planks, the massive rectangle of the door is mimicked by the railroad ties; the sweeping streaks of black graffiti parallel the slope and wave of the horizon as well as the paths of the distant dirt roads; an unruly mound of tangled debris provides an ironic similarity to dark forms of oaks on the hills.

In my high school junior year (Clifton, AZ) I had a fascinating and intensely engaging character as my Chemistry and Biology teacher. Occasionally he proffered his opinion that evolution was a mistaken notion -- to the contrary, his view was that mankind (in particular) began as a much higher life form and has ever since been on a declining trajectory. I don't concur vis-à-vis with his evolutionary theories, yet my species' propensity to inflict wantonly destructive behavior with abandon upon disused buildings does give one reason to pause.

The scene offered here presents a stark duality between the elegance of nature's workings and that of earth's highest life form . . .

Impermanence (Devolution), #5057

(c)2009 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

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Details: October 11, 2009; Canon 20D; f/11 @ 1/160 sec; -1/3 EV; ISO 200; 22mm.

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Seeing 2009 (#85)

A study in the geometry of relationships . . . taking from a rare outing onto the 5th floor balcony roof of the Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., library.

Two women, connected by line and form, traverse a precisely defined and proximate space within an otherwise empty plane . . . yet rather than sharing a momentary acknowledgment of mutual existence the pair instead demonstrates a deliberate indifference towards one another. The sterility of the scene is echoed and reinforced by the arid interaction.

In an increasingly populated planet Earth this photograph reflects our own too frequent disdain for the chance to experience the wonder and variety of the journeys of our fellow travelers, simply because we often fail to take risk transforming strangers into acquaintances, and perhaps becoming friends and companions. We are each miracles of consciousness, vessels possessed of an utterly unique kaleidoscope of memories, visions and life experiences. Our time together on this mortal coil is but fleeting, and our own terrestrial voyages are immeasurably enriched to the degree that we choose to share our humanity.

Geometry Students, #3055

(c)2009 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

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Details: May 14, 2009 ; Canon 20D; f/16 @ 1/250 sec; -2/3 EV; ISO 400; 85mm.

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Seeing 2009 (#84)

On the way home from last weekend's escape to the foothills I took a short diversion in order to explore a long-abandoned rail station (of sorts). Wandering around the collection of utterly derelict structures, which were severely marred by a mixture of weather and graffiti, yielded a deep nostalgia for when I first began my photographic pursuits in earnest, c. 1975.

In those halcyon days I was in high school in the small, isolated desert town of Clifton Arizona. I spent considerable solitary time investigating shuttered, empty buildings in what passed for downtown, as well as the crumbling remnants of the original copper mine smelter site located on the fringes of town. Those early exposures to the pervasive sense of an oddly lost history latent within the discarded and crumbling detritus set the tone for my lifelong attraction to the photogenic possibilities inherent in items and structures discarded as useless . . . and I derive considerable pleasure transforming them into unexpected objets d'art.

An alternative title I considered for this submission: A Wrinkle In Time.

Abstract in Blue and Yellow, #5037

(c)2009 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

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Details: October 11, 2009 ; Canon 20D; f/5.6 @ 1/800 sec; -1/3 EV; ISO 200; 55mm.

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Seeing 2009 (#83)

October has arrived, thus my annual pilgrimage to the foothills above San Juan Bautista, this year my 18th sojourn. As will always be the case, the gathering arrived right on schedule: my soul craved the respite and healing inherent in these holy grounds.

For just the second time over the course of these many visits circumstances prevented me from traveling and rooming with Nino; this year however I was unexpectedly able to have Jerry as my companion. Jerry and I share many common interests, among them being nocturnal photography and the occasional, when-away-from-home cigar indulgence.

Thus this image. Although not apparent, Jerry is sitting in a precariously balanced plastic chair at the very edge of an overlook which falls away to a rural valley. The thirty second exposure time, taken at 11:22 p.m., reveals the glow of Hollister seeping over hills in the distant east.

Jerry Lighting A Cigar At Serenity Point, #4922

(c)2009 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

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Details: October 10, 2009 ; Canon 20D; f/9 @ 30 secs; -1/3 EV; ISO 400; 28mm.

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Seeing 2009 (#82)

It's been a long week.

Going on a retreat this weekend - right on schedule. Looking forward to time for meditation, reflection and renewal.

The lighting in the scene below was oddly flat for a mid-morning, utterly clear day. Still, this serves the mood: a strangely sterile tableau for a setting generally associated with high-energy sport (sans furniture on the courts!) . . . for me this composition suggests a surprising sense of estrangement - of a gathering somehow preempted for unspoken reasons.

Untitled, #4521

(c)2009 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

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Details: September 5, 2009 ; Canon 20D; f/11 @ 1/500 sec; -1 EV; ISO 100; 55mm.

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Seeingn 2009 (#81)

This past weekend my wife Julianna and I trekked up to Lake County and rode our bicycles in the Konacti Challenge.

Julianna's goal was 100 miles; she breezed through 65 before heading off the route for a soft landing at my parents' home. As for me: not being nearly as fit as my bride, combined with having a mountain bike (vs. a touring model), I was convinced that the 30 mile option was in my best interest . . . and that proved to be a challenge indeed, not helped by having taken two wrong turns (adding two massive climbs and about 10 extra miles) and running into 15-20 m.p.h head-winds over the last three . . . agonizing . . . miles . . . Ahh, but we survived with a sense of mutual accomplishment.

This submission provides related but dramatically different images taken at the shore of Clear Lake, just before the peddling, perspiration, persistence and pain began. For those of you who take the time to view these offerings, I'd be interested in your preference, and the reasons for your choice.

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Boat and Dock, Lakeport shore of Clear Lake , #4785

(c)2009 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

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Details: October 3, 2009 ; Canon 20D; f/11 @ 1/1000 sec; -2/3 EV; ISO 400; 25mm.

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Untitled , #4775

(c)2009 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

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Details: October 3, 2009 ; Canon 20D; f/11 @ 1/1000 sec; -2/3 EV; ISO 400; 18mm.

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Seeing 2009 (#80)

Two offerings from an 2005 European bus-tour vacation taken with my then-fiancée Julianna and my parents . . . Spain, the Rivera and Italy. Quite an adventure . . . perhaps more on that in another post.

For quite some time I thought I'd irretrievably lost all of my images from this trip due to an external hard drive crash; nearly three years later I rediscovered the original CF cards and experienced the unspeakable delight to also learn that I'd not erased them, as I had thought.

The first is the side of a house in the lovely, soothing and serene village of Lucca, Italy; the arrangement of the windows immediately invoked some of Picasso's simpler depictions of faces.

The second image is one of a great deal of shots taken in Pompeii on a very hot day just past noon. I rarely take photographs under such generally flat light conditions. Nonetheless, on that particular day several scenes presented themselves as unusually abstract constructions, due to the sun's position nearly directly overhead. It was hot, extremely sunny, and Mt. Vesuvius loomed close by . . .

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Lucca House Façade (Ode to Picasso), #5412

(c)2009 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

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Details: July 6, 2005; Canon G2; f/5 @ 1/640 sec; -1/3 EV; ISO 50; 18.8mm.

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Pompeii, #5491

(c)2009 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

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Details: July 10, 2005; Canon G2; f/8 @ 1/250 sec; -1/3 EV; ISO 50; 14.6mm.

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