Happy Neck-Romancing Day!

"Hearts" by Jamie Powell Sheppard

I’m kinda surprised I took the above photo, since I’m definitely not a hearts ‘n flowers girly-girl. However, the light was beautiful and I was delighted to discover the subtle pattern in the stair railing. I wondered how often people overlook it.

I’m not into most holidays since they’ve become such massive commercial orgies, and Valentine’s Day is near the very top of my dislike list. I know I know–I’m a disappointment to women the world over. But think of it this way, ladies–more chocolate for you!

I’ve been pretty down lately, and every day seems to be a struggle. Then today I remembered what is possibly my favorite passage from a book. Ever.

“The parlor chair and the washbasin were ruined. Imogene overruled Lutie’s protests and they were added to her bill. She replaced the broken looking glass herself, smuggling in the new one wrapped in a shawl, rather than face the same odd looks occasioned by the chair and the burnt basin. An hour’s scrubbing had gotten the worst of the soot off the ceiling above the washstand where the paintings had been burned.

Evelynne Bone, who had seen the paint-smeared chair and the charred basin, gossiped of it. One evening she made the mistake of cornering McMurphy while he waited in the parlor for his lesson. She told him what she had seen. ‘It smacks of necromancy,’ she whispered with satisfaction. For her pains, the old miner told her she might put it in her pocket and ride on it; he didn’t know what ‘neck-romancing’ was, but he’d bet the old bat had never had any herself.” -from Bittersweet by Nevada Barr.

I may still feel crappy physically, but I’ll have a smile on my face all day thanks to Nevada Barr.

I hope everyone has a happy Neck-Romancing Day!

What if?

This is Chaco, the New Mexico kitten:

"Lynx Point Kitten"

I call him that because we found him in the middle of the road to Chaco Culture National Historical Park on our 2009 New Mexico trip. We’re not sure if he suffered a glancing blow from a car or if some critter got hold of him. The only injuries we could find were on his face, so we cleaned him up the best we could once we reached the park, using antiseptic wipes and Neosporin from the first aid kit the rangers were kind enough to offer. He was in shock so I wrapped him up in my fleece jacket, but he came out of it pretty quickly when he smelled our roast turkey sandwiches! The volume of his screams and the fact that he got up and started searching out the turkey led us to believe he wasn’t injured too badly. We made a nest for him in the back of our car and took him around the park with us all day. He was sooo good–napped most of the time.

I REALLY wanted to keep him, of course, even though Oliver might not have been too thrilled about it. Even Kevin liked him, although the volume and frequency of Siamese kitten screams shocked him.

The only residence anywhere near where we found the little guy was well over a mile away. We weren’t planning on stopping as we left the park and even passed the place by. We figured we didn’t want to return him to somebody who was careless enough to let him out for critters or cars to get him. But we weren’t sure what we’d do with him and we’d only have one day to figure it out before our flight home. Our host probably could have found a good home for him, but I doubt he would have been thrilled to see us come back with yet another animal–he already had four cats and three dogs as it was! And finally, I couldn’t shake the vision of some little girl crying and heartbroken because her kitten was missing. So we turned around and learned it was his home. I was tempted to leave and to hell with the details of taking care of him or getting him home. The owner said she THOUGHT she had 13 cats but wasn’t sure. There were cats of varying ages all over the place, running in and out the house door that remained open. She THOUGHT he’d been missing for two weeks, but didn’t seem to really care. She also didn’t seem to care that he’d been injured or that he’d been returned. It was obvious she wasn’t going to take him to the vet or even make sure he stayed safely inside while he healed. But he seemed to know where he was and we could hardly snatch him up and run off with him. So we left, and I cried most of the way back to the ranch, which is about a three hour drive. I felt like we’d saved him from immediate danger only to hand down an indefinite death sentence.

The next day, which was the last day of our trip, I took this photograph:

"Three Room Ruin" by Jamie Powell Sheppard

Yes, it’s the header image from the top of my blog. Because we chose to return the kitten to his home I had time to wander the ranch one last time and take one of the best photos I’ve taken in the last 5 years.

I was pretty sure I’d taken some fairly decent photos during our trip:

"Coal Mine Movie Projector" by Jamie Powell Sheppard

"Cracked" by Jamie Powell Sheppard

"Mason Jars" by Jamie Powell Sheppard

"Three Crosses" by Jamie Powell Sheppard

"Santa Fe Car 502" by Jamie Powell Sheppard

But I knew deep down in my gut that I hadn’t taken that one photo yet, and I was just as certain that it was out there waiting for me.

There’s no denying the fact that if we had kept Chaco I would not have photographed the ruins. I would have been 60 miles away in Santa Fe, spending most of the day at an emergency animal clinic, while simultaneously on the phone with the airline trying desperately to get official passage for him, because after having rescued him there’s no way I would have been able to leave him behind.

So…what if I hadn’t photographed it? Would I have been satisfied with the photos I already had, knowing that somehow I’d missed an important one? Would I have been so delighted in having a kitten that I wouldn’t have cared?

And what about Chaco? Was he able to heal without proper care, or is he maimed for life? Is he even still alive? Outdoor cats in that area are lucky if they live a year, what with cars, coyotes, and birds of prey.

What if I could go back and do it over?

I’d pick the kitten.

Favorite Image of 2011

This is the time of year when I gravitate towards organizing files, reviewing images, and attempting to unearth my office and gear closet. There’s not much else going on and after four years I still haven’t come to terms with Louisville winters. (I’m a winter weenie–I blame it on growing up in North Texas.)

When I look back over last year’s work several images stand out, but if I must choose then I’d say this was my favorite:

"1927 Lighthouse" by Jamie Powell Sheppard

I took this photo on our July trip to Florida, where we were fortunate enough to visit friends who were staying south of Tampa. It was an optimistic move to even bring a camera, much less the full Mamiya 645 rig:  Three lenses, four extra film inserts, two film backs, and assorted filters. (Or perhaps the best word would be “stubborn”.) I knew this trip was slated for relaxation, and carrying the Mamiya pack without a donkey definitely does not fall under that description. Add sand, sun, and my total non-interest in landscape photography and it just didn’t make sense to bring the whole shebang. But I did. (Did I mention I was stubborn?)

I can’t not go on a trip without a camera. Imagine separating Linus from his blanket and you get the idea. I could have taken one of the smaller ones, but I love my medium format Mamiya. It’s my workhorse and I’m unhealthily attached to it. That and I thought Florida would be the perfect place to shoot some of the medium format infrared film I was hoarding in the freezer.

Our friends, also photographers, knew I needed a fix and one day suggested driving us all to Boca Grande on Gasparilla Island. Yay, a shooting day! But I was worried, since the method that works best for me is wandering aimlessly with no real goal in mind, and no time constraints, until I start to notice things I want to photograph. Heading out to a specific destination doesn’t always work–I feel like I’m forcing it. The pressure built as I realized that after driving 25 minutes to our destination we also had to pay a $10 toll to enter the island. Everyone took time out of their heavy schedule of relaxation to humor me, and I wasn’t sure I would produce anything that would justify that.

I photographed an avenue of banyan trees, our main goal:

"Banyan Street" by Jamie Powell Sheppard

But I couldn’t keep my eyes off the dilapidated lighthouse. An avenue lined with banyan trees is definitely cool, but a deteriorating lighthouse is totally my sort of scene. It was so oddly spidery-looking. So our friends parked the car in a local lot and stayed behind to snooze in the comfort of AC while I headed down the tiny two lane road. Even with my wide angle lens I had to stand almost in the road to get the composition I wanted, which meant I couldn’t avoid attracting attention. I didn’t know if local authorities would be okay with me photographing the lighthouse or not–they kept cruising by, eyeing me. Since I could see pieces of the structure lying about I figured it was probably off-limits. I was sweating from nerves and the oppressive warm-wet-blanket-wrapped-about-your-head climate, as the Police drove back and forth, back and forth. My hands kept slipping on the heavy camera. My 80mm lens was awkwardly bulging my capris pocket away from my thigh like an aggressive tumor. My friends and husband (backup) were down the road and out of sight. But I must have only looked witless, and not suspicious, because they left me to do my thing.

I’m glad I was stubborn. And I’m glad I look harmless.

Why hello there, 2012.

"Photo 2012" by Jamie Powell Sheppard

So, yeah, that’s pretty much how my year will look.

Happy New Year!

Love Your Libraries

"Library Love" by Jamie Powell Sheppard

My parents recently visited us from Texas and when my dad (who is largely responsible for my photo obsession) saw this image he asked me if I had spray-painted the heart on the lamp myself.

Of course I didn’t, but I get why people would automatically assume that. I seriously doubt the vandal was demonstrating a similar love, or even that a heart-shape was the end goal. But the resulting juxtaposition was just too ironic for me to pass up.

I’ve tried several times to photograph this particular facade, which is the original Highlands branch in Louisville. It’s since been replaced by a much smaller branch in a strip center mall. At least it has survived by being re-purposed–I believe it now houses offices for some company or another. It has defeated me each time I’ve attempted to photograph it–the location and direction it faces causes it to be in shadow most of the year ’round. The day I took this was overcast with intermittent, weak sunshine. My Evil Photography Twin and I were wandering around The Highlands after meeting for coffee, testing out the “new” Argus C3 brick she’d given me for my birthday.

"Argus C3 Front with Case" by Jamie Powell Sheppard

We stopped in front of the library, since all libraries seem to act as a beacon for me. (Really–it’s true. I can be lost in a totally unfamiliar city yet I’ll unerringly find my way to a library. I think that’s my superpower, or Alpha ability, or something.) And for once there was finally some magic for me at this location, and a new worthy image to add to The Libraries Project. Hooray!

Help the Fur-Brats, Help Yourself

"Oliver in Window" by Jamie Powell Sheppard

I love cats, in case you haven’t figured that out yet.  I try to keep my cat photography to a minimum, but it’s rough.  I hate to say it, but I probably love my cat more than my photography. GASP!  Don’t worry–I won’t be making any creepy videos about it.

Instead, I dropped some donations off yesterday at The Animal Care Society, a no-kill shelter here in Louisville.

Of course shelters always need money and volunteers, but there’s another way to help that can benefit yourself as well.  I checked the shelter’s Wish List and was surprised to find that they have great need for things such as gently used towels, blankets, comforters, pillow cases, bath mats, etc…  Some places even accept old coats.  Every household always ends up with linens and clothing that are stained or missing part of a set, which means you can’t donate them to charities, yet they’re not in bad enough shape to simply toss without feeling guilty.  So next time load ‘em up in a box and take them to your local shelter instead.  It was a huge relief for me to find another purpose for my old stuff.

And no, I didn’t come home with a kitten!   It was tempting, but the potential fury of both feline and husband awaiting me at home made it a risk not worth taking.  I’ll continue to make periodic donations instead.

"Cosmic Hors D'oeuvre" by Jamie Powell Sheppard

P.S.  No Starship Enterprises were harmed in the making of the above photo.

Wait…what???

"Lamp, Scrolls, and Shadows" by Jamie Powell Sheppard

Hey, I thought this chick only shot black and white film!

Are you confused yet?  Because believe it or not, there was a time in my life where I voluntarily shot color film.  I wasn’t all that fond of it even then, and now I’m pretty much death on color negative film.  But there were some instances in the past where I thought I had to shoot color or else the self-appointed Photography Police would get me for it.  If any of you reading this are photographers then you know all about these Photography Police.  They aren’t exactly kind or helpful, are they?  Nowadays I’m confident enough to indicate to them, with eloquent words and graceful gestures, just where they may sit.

I took this photograph (above) when we visited New Orleans in late October 2004.  By that time I’d been out of school for several years and was slowly becoming interested in personal work again.  I saw quite a lot of wonderful color images through my job, and the people I worked with also shot color film, so since I was visiting such a vibrant city I felt that it must be a necessity.  Of course I also took some black and white film with me–Tri-X 400 for my Canon AE-1 Program and TMAX 100 for my father’s Rolleiflex, which he loaned me with (I think) some reservation.

And as luck would have it, I encountered issues with both cameras.  I managed to get a few rolls of color and one of b&w through the AE-1 P before it quit on me.  I never even finished the first roll in the Rolleiflex–I was so unfamiliar with it and so nervous using it that I gave up.  The following two images are pretty much the only decent shots I got:

"Magazine Street" by Jamie Powell Sheppard

"NOLA Cemetery Wheelbarrow" by Jamie Powell Sheppard

The truth was that the trip was kinda doomed from the start.  At the time my husband’s company had announced that they were consolidating their IT departments and so we had to choose whether to join the rest of his group in Savannah, GA or move to Memphis, TN.  We’d both always lived in Texas, so it was a tough decision for us.  We decided to cut our NOLA trip short since we might need those vacation days to visit Savannah and/or Memphis.  But the situation and decision deadline loomed over us during the trip and never entirely left us.

As much as I wanted to be there, I simply wasn’t feeling it.  I told my husband that we would definitely have to return, and soon.  We figured we’d go again once we’d given ourselves a few months to settle down after the move, which finally happened in July 2005.  Well, we all know what occurred shortly after that…

Lately the New Orleans bug has been biting me again.  Seems like everything crosses paths with it lately, whether it’s a book I’m reading, re-connecting with old friends, or sifting through images that desperately need to be archived.  I want to return without some dark cloud hanging over me sucking all the fun out of the experience.  (If anything’s going to be stifling me I’d rather it be the city’s infamous humidity.)  I want to really enjoy the city and take photographs like crazy with various cameras and types of films.

And hey, I’ll even bring along the little point and shoot digicam just for fun.  Gotta do justice to the tree’d Mardi Gras beads, ya know.

"Tree'd Beads" by Jamie Powell Sheppard

Curvy Chick, Classic Cameras

Boobquake 2010 and Grey Rolleiflex T

Photo by Karen Leist Bassett

I’m seriously tempted, after my post Hot Girls with Film Cameras, to revamp my blog and use the fact that I’m female to draw traffic.  Yeah, I know, I know–sensationalism, blah blah blah.  But after all, if I have to live with the disadvantages of Venus I might as well get some mileage out of it.  Maybe it’s time to make those hips and butt go to work for me.  (In a purely legal sense, of course.)

Of course I’m torn.  It seems like an awfully flippant tack to take when you’re serious about your work, which I am.  Sometimes it annoys me that the only reason a viewer stops to take a second look is because they caught a glimpse of cleavage.  Other times I think “Hey, glad they enjoyed the view and even more glad that they stopped in front of my image.”

Why not be both serious and flippant at the same time, though?  That happens to be who I am, and if that draws attention to my work, then rock on.

Now, if I went ahead and got my MLS and became the curvy chick obsessed with classic cameras who was also a librarian, well…

Why???

“Can I just ask you one thing?” said the man behind me on the subway stairs.

“Ummm…sure, I guess.” I replied.

“Why???”

“Why…what?”  I was confused.

“Why take that picture?”

Pause.

“Well, why not???” was my answer.

There was a time in the not-too-distant past when my insecurity would have prompted a hostile response to such a question.  And true, it was still a little smart-ass, but I laughed and invited the man to laugh with me.  Which he did, albeit a bit sheepishly, and said:  “Well, I guess that’s as good an answer as any.”

Damn right it is.

My husband wanted to know why I didn’t give the man the same explanation I gave our group when I finally caught up with them.  Why didn’t I tell him that a certain quality of light, texture, composition, etc…grabbed my attention?  I told him that while I didn’t believe the guy was really trying to be obnoxious, he never stopped walking away from me, and I was hardly going to trot after him to defend myself.  Obviously he didn’t care that much about the answer, so why knock myself out?  I was busy–I had a shot to take.

Had he caught me a few years earlier it’s likely I would have stared pointedly at his waaay too small t-shirt and replied that I could ask him the same question about his sartorial selection.  Yeah, I was pretty prickly.  Fortunately I’ve a better sense of my own self-worth now and better control of my snarky impulses.  Very boring, I know. 

But I continued to think about it.  Why is it okay to ask me that question in the first place, when they don’t care enough to stop walking and hear the response?  I love it when people are curious about what I do or have questions about my tools or process.  I’ll discuss it with them as long as they like.  But why is it okay to intrude on an artist’s personal moment just for the hell of it?  I can just imagine the reaction I’d get from some poor beleaguered mother if I walked up to her and asked:  “Why?” as she’s yanked in two different directions by screaming toddlers.  That’s sooo not okay, even if we do catch ourselves thinking it.  C’mon–you KNOW you’ve thought it.  Just admit it.  I won’t judge you.

"FLW Hanger" by Jamie Powell Sheppard

Consider the photograph above.  There I am in this incredible Frank Lloyd Wright chapel, and I’m photographing a hanger.  Granted, it’s a hanger silhouetted in a FLW art glass window.  But still, it’s a plain old plastic freaking hanger.  Several people slowed down as they passed me and gave me funny looks–it was easy to tell that they were curious and confused.  But they were also polite and didn’t want to bother me.  Had they stopped and asked, I would have been glad to tell them that the scene reminded me of what FLW design is all about–a combination of function and simple design.  I would have told them that it appealed to my quirky sense of humor, and I wouldn’t have begrudged them the explanation or been bothered by the question at all.

So…why?

Because it’s there.

Because I can.

Because I’m pretty sure it was following me earlier and I want documentation.

Sigh.  I miss the snarky-ness.

.

Hot Girls with film cameras!

"Porsche and Gazebo" by Jamie Powell Sheppard

Okay, so some of you are about to be disappointed by this post.  (You know who you are!)  No, you will not see any photos of hot girls with film cameras.  Read on, if you can forgive me, and you’ll see where I’m going with this.

Of course there are females who prefer film photography, but the male percentage is definitely much higher.  I believe this is true for photography in general, although the gap is slowly closing.  My position is that if film companies really wanted to do something to increase their film sales they’d run advertising campaigns featuring hothotHOT girls using film cameras, reclining with film cameras, etc…  Hey, it worked for the automobile industry!

The other day I wandered around with one of my vintage film cameras and took note of the reactions I drew, and while I wasn’t surprised at the results I still found them kinda interesting.  The women hardly gave me or my camera a second glance.  The guys were a different story!  There wasn’t a single one that didn’t at least do a double-take at what was cradled in my hands, and most of them stopped for a closer look.  Patrons enjoying the patio seating at a local grill ended up grouping around me to ask questions and get a better look.  These guys ranged from those who’d obviously seen better days to well-dressed corporate types.  As I approached the grill they were separated in their own little social islands, but they all shared what must be an inherent male love for gizmos, and even after I moved on they continued the discussion with each other–no longer separated.

I’ve joked about this before, but obviously there’s also something to it!  I’ll continue in the same light-hearted vein and admit that I wonder how many guys use this as a built-in excuse to talk to cute girls.  “Hey, no, I’m not a desperate perv!  I find your camera very interesting!”

Female photographers get ready to throw bricks at my head in 3…2…1…