Four Years of December 30

I took up a challenge in 2010, to take a photograph a day, every day for a year - 365 photographs. I started my project on January 1st, it seemed like a good starting point.

I had no idea if I could really do it, take a photograph every day - no matter what. I wondered if I could make the time or if I would be able to find something to shoot every day. It was an exercise in seeing photographically every day, an exercise in discipline.

As part of the process I posted the photos to my Facebook page. It was a way to share what I was doing, as well as a way to help me keep going.

An artist friend of mine, who joined me in doing her own 365 project, gave me the idea to compare the photographs taken on the same day from one year to the next.

So here follows four years of December 30.

December 30, 2010 - A Frosty Windshield at Dawn

 

December 30, 2011 - December Sky

 

December 30, 2012 - Abandoned Farm, Loudoun County, Virginia

 

December 30, 2013 - Early Morning, Potomac River, Washington, DC

The Last Road Trip of 2013

I took advantage of a warm sunny day in December, the last Saturday of 2013, to head out on the road. I had grand plans to do a wide loop through the Virginia back roads, mostly I wanted to get out, to drive down roads that weren’t crowded with people, to be outside where I could see long views.

I got lost, missed a turn off, found myself in places unplanned. My plans, like much of life, shifted and evolved. Instead of worrying about how I was off-track, I decided to focus on the journey, discover what I could instead of trying to stick to a schedule or even a plan.

First stop was Chapman's Mill, a grist mill built in 1742. You can read about the Mill here: http://www.chapmansmill.org/history.

Chapman's Mill, Thoroughfare Gap

Back on down the road, I stopped at the Broad Run Post office to photograph an old house sitting in a hollow, long abandoned I wonder about the people who once lived in it.

Broad Run, Virginia

I drove through the small town of Aldie, stopped at an antique store (or two). Once outside of Aldie I was on the Snickersville Turnpike, the kind of road I was looking for, narrow country roads with low stone fences on both sides, farms and estates, horses and cows, long vistas up and down valleys. I stopped to ponder a statue erected to the Civil War Battle of Aldie. The Battle of Aldie took place on June 17, 1863, as part of the Gettysburg Campaign.

Monument to the Battle of Aldie

My ultimate goal was to find the small town of Unison, Virginia. I passed the Mountville Church, now being used as an office building.

Mountville Church, circa 1852

The road to Unison was unpaved, and still wet from melted snows.

The road to Unison

Along the road to Unison

Unison was a small hamlet, sweetly hidden. I definitely want to go back. From Unison, it was more back roads to Route 50, I made one more stop at the Mount Zion church. 

Mt. Zion Old School Baptist Church, built in 1851, sits at the intersection of the Old Carolina Road and the Little River Turnpike – once a main crossroad in Loudoun County. The church was at the center of much of the area's history, particularly the Civil War. Many churches and other buildings were put into service during the Civil War, but few saw as much action as Mt. Zion.

The church was used as a military rendezvous site, prison, barracks, battleground, and hospital.  Union troops used the church as a field hospital after cavalry engagements of Aldie, Middleburg, and Upperville in June of 1863. July of 1864 saw military action close to the church, when Confederate Colonel John S. Mosby and his men met the Union forces from Massachusetts and New York.

I never visit Mount Zion without feeling a little bit haunted. The trees around the church lean in  to embrace it.

Mount Zion, circa 1851

After stopping at Mount Zion, it was a straight shot through to Route 50 and home. So ends the last road trip of 2013, there will be many more road trips in 2014 - each with it's own flavor and discoveries.

tARTism #7

Stop. Waiting. 

It’s by living that you live more. 

By waiting you wait more. 

Every waiting day makes your life a little less. 

Every lonely day makes you a little smaller. 

Every day you put off your life makes you less capable of living it. 

~ Ann Brashares, "Sisterhood Everlasting"

Some things a tART just has to say. 

I make these images using my photographs, vintage photographs, 

and vintage illustrations. 

I hope you enjoy them! 

tARTism #6

There are days I wish I could just "cowgirl" up and fix the world. Be the Lone Ranger and right wrongs. Annie Oakley and save the day. It's all about attitude - ride out into the dawn with a clear mission to do what's right and solve problems, be kind and strong.

So here's to choosing to get up every day - and doing what one person can do to make the world a better place.

About tARTisms:

Some things a tART just has to say. I make these images using my photographs, vintage photographs,

and vintage illustrations. I hope you enjoy them! 

tARTism #5

Some things a tART just has to say. 

I make these images using my photographs, vintage photographs, 

and vintage illustrations.

This particular image is a vintage cigarette ad. I cleaned up blemishes, colorized her dress, and added text.

I hope you enjoy!

tARTism #4

Some things a tART just has to say. 

I make these images using my photographs, vintage photographs, 

and vintage illustrations. 

This particular image is a "found" still life. The clock face was on the cement floor of an abandoned warehouse, I moved it from the pile of trash and took the photograph. (I wish now I had taken the face with me - the next time I got back in, the face was gone.) But at least I have the picture and can share it with you.

tARTism #3

Some things a tART just has to say. 

I make these images using my photographs, vintage photographs, 

and vintage illustrations. I took this photograph near Ghost Ranch, New Mexico. Georgia O'Keefe territory. I love the long line of road leading off into the distance, makes me think of all the possibilities of travel and life.

tARTism #2

Some things a tART just has to say. 

I make these images using my photographs, vintage photographs, 

and vintage illustrations. 

I hope you enjoy them! 

Constructing and Creating Crone Figures

I build crones, multi-media figures, representing the crone ~ a woman who has reached an age of wisdom and maturity.

The figures are built of salvaged materials, wood, metal, glass, clay. The faces are individually molded clay, all are painted. Each figure is different and transforms in form as part of the creation process; each is unique and individual.

This statement defines the crone and what goes into making one of my crone figures.

I usually create the crone figures in sets of two to four, the set pictured here are the Four Sisters Series.

Crone, one of the Four Sisters Series

Crone, one of the Four Sisters Series

Crone, one of the Four Sisters Series

Crone, one of the Four Sisters Series

Crone, one of the Four Sisters Series

tARTism #1

Everything has beauty

but not everyone sees it.

 

Some things a tART just has to say. 

I make these images using my photographs, vintage photographs, 

and vintage illustrations. 

I hope you enjoy them! 

A Cupboard Made

I have to confess that I love chippy old furniture, with the patina of age and all the stories that go with a vintage piece. Fortunately, I've married a man who likes old furniture, although not necessarily chippy furniture, and definitely likes saving money. Even better he has mad woodworking skills.

A friend of our gave us a pile of old windows salvaged from a hotel renovation in Virginia Beach, Virginia. They were in decent shape, and had some funky pink pepto-bismol paint.

 

 

 

 

The salvaged windows, pre-cleaning, still showing the original cord sash.

 

 

We needed a place to store towels and bath supplies so these windows were to become the doors of a cupboard for our 1909 farmhouse on Virginia's eastern shore.

My husband built the frame out of salvaged wood he had in storage.

The windows became the cupboard doors, after we cleaned the windows we decided to leave the pink paint intact - so the inside of the cupboard doors is pink. And I even convinced the husband that the outside of the windows didn't need any thing more than a wire brushing to clean off any loose paint. We don't have small children so there were no worries about lead paint - otherwise the windows should probably be sealed with a clear varnish.

Ceramic electric 'knobs' from old knob and tube wiring were re-purposed as handles for the 'new' doors.

The top of the cupboard is barn wood salvaged from a barn that was torn down in Loudoun County, we left that as found - simply cleaned it up. The back is a piece of leftover bead board from the bathroom renovation. After much discussion we decided to use chicken wire, leftover trying to keep the rabbits out of the garden, as the sides. A coat of paint on the unfinished wood frame and our cupboard was finished.

The finished cupboard all loaded up, plenty of room for all our towels and bath supplies. And having glass doors forces us to stay tidy!

And here a picture of the cupboard from the side. I really like how the legs of the frame are tapered.































#recycle #salvage #reuse #vintage #green #creative 

Saturday Morals

"These Boots," photograph by Terry Rowe

In the course of the normal weekend morning chores I made mental note of the location of my dog, Bear’s, morning deposit. I thought, “I need to pick that up, and I need to make sure I remember where it is so I don’t step in it.” But first I wanted to start the coffee, which I did. I then filled the bird feeders, deadheaded the marigolds, filled the bird baths, set the hose to water the side flower bed, and then – despite my earlier thought – stepped right in the sh*t. Yes I did. The good news is I had my boots on.

Why am I telling you this? There is a moral to this story, which is “Take care of the sh*t first.” If you don't a second moral will come into play, “If you’re going to step in sh*t, make sure you have your boots on.”

9-11-2001 Impressions

I had just returned to my office, on Capitol Hill, after a week’s vacation at the beach. It was a beautiful September morning, clear and cool, bright blue skies. We had the morning news running on the office television, they were reporting an “accident,” an airplane had hit one of the New York skyscrapers – I called my boss, something didn’t feel right, I wanted to find out what he knew. As we watched the news report, as I was on the phone with my boss, we saw the second plane hit the other tower. This was deliberate.

We evacuated. On the street we heard sirens, and a large explosion. We knew we were under attack. Street rumors were that the explosion was a plane hitting the Old Executive Office Building, later I found out it was the Pentagon. We could see the smoke in the sky.

One of my staff, Scott, went to get his wife; she worked for (then) Congressman Gutknecht of Minnesota. My other staffer, Cari, and I got in my car to drive out of Washington. We had heard the 14^th Street Bridge into Virginia was closed, so we headed for Maryland. The streets were gridlocked, police were trying to direct traffic. The faces of the people on the sidewalks were stunned, some in tears. I managed to get one phone call out to my boyfriend – I told him I was okay and trying to get home, I asked him to call my family. The cell phone lines were jammed.

Cari was able to get Scott on his phone – he and his wife were at Congressman Gutknecht’s apartment on the Senate side of Capitol Hill. We were invited to join them since we couldn’t get out of the city. We entered the apartment – it was barely furnished, and there were about twenty people already there – mostly young staffers – sitting on the floor around a radio. The Congressman didn’t have a television. We listened to the news reports. The Congressman was gracious and calming. He sent some of us out to the local sandwich shop to get food for everyone. He wrote an speech to his constituents in Minnesota, comparing 9-11 to Pearl Harbor, he dictated it over his landline to his office in Minnesota. Then he collected the names and phone numbers of all of our families and had his Minnesota office call our families to tell them we were all right. The cell phone lines were still jammed.

By early evening Cari and I thought we’d try again to get out of the city. It was eerily quiet; all the airplanes had been grounded. Most of the traffic was gone and the sidewalks were empty. We drove into Virginia, we could see black smoke and the wreckage of the Pentagon, and I could smell the charring. I dropped Cari at the train station and headed home. I went to the basement, unpacked my American flag, and hung it on the front door.

The next morning, our office was open, the point was to show the terrorists that work would continue, and they could not, would not shut down Congress, shut down America.

The sky was crystal blue, but DC was quiet, hushed. It seemed that even the birds were silent. Airplanes were still grounded. The Pentagon gaped with a huge black hole. There were tanks parked at the bridges into DC.

On the Hill, we all greeted each other in the hallways, on the elevators. We knew we’d been a target, we knew we were survivors.

September 2001

Vacation Starts

The start of a beach vacation – almost two weeks. Arrival day is spent checking in, humping numerous bags & boxes up three flights of stairs, unpacking. Making the bed, cleaning what wasn’t cleaned from the last tenants (the cleaning ladies will not get a tip this visit), walking the dog. Actually the dog got a couple of walks in all that activity. A quick walk to the beach to check on the ocean, yes it’s still there.  A sea turtle nest is close by – there were none last year. Last a run to the grocery store; only to discover my favorite mom-and-pop small grocer had gone out of business. Had to brave the hordes at Food Lion. Haul more bags. Dinner. Watch the sky darken over the dunes, and the ocean turn black as night descended. Read. Sleep.

The first real day of vacation, is for me, the day I wake to the sound of the waves, the sky just starting to lighten – and days and days of no plans, no one to please other than myself, time is a concept not the driver of my activities, my only task to keep the dog fed, watered, and walked. 

Yes, vacation.

Hatteras Sunrise, 09-02-2013

Coyote Quorum

Coyote Quorum

In the high altitude of Santa Fe, I went to sleep with the windows open to the cooling night air. The full moon silvered the shadows.

Sometime in the darkest of the night hours, the yips and yowls of coyotes woke me from the deep of my sleep.

The chorus rose in volume as more voices, more yips and yowls joined in – until the sound filled the room. A small primitive part of my brain cowered at the sound of predators hunting in the night – and another part gloried in the sound of the wildness, the sound of the untamed spirit.

In a very short while, the chorus dwindled to a few last yips and howls – a few having the last word in the song of the night.

In the silence that returned, I drifted back into sleep.

In the dawn’s light I wonder did I dream the coyote moon song?

Full Moon Composite, Santa Fe, New Mexico by Terry Rowe

Blessed or Cursed?

Blessed or Cursed?

It was one of those days – you know the kind of day when it feels like the whole world, the universe, is trying to overthrow all your plans. A giant conspiracy aimed right at you.

I’d had a week-long trip to New Mexico planned for months. The night before my flight I got all my gear and clothes assembled & half packed. I had extensive lists – what went on the plan, what got checked. I was organized. On top of it.

My flight was due to leave at 7:10am. – to be comfortable with the security lines, checking in, making sure I had time to grab breakfast – I wanted to be at the airport by 5:30 – just over an hour before my flight started boarding at 6:40am. I set the alarm for 4:00am – that way I’d have plenty of time to shower, dress, finish packing, be calm about leaving.

At 5:31 I woke up – shrieked when I saw the time and started scrambling. The alarm went off at 4:00am all right – just the volume on the clock radio was turned down – so no one heard it.

With the husband’s help – and with a mad throw everything in the bag any which way – I was out the door and at the airport a few minutes after 6am. Sweating over the long lines at bag check-in – I felt truly blessed when the checker told me the flight was running 20 minutes late!

Surely things were turning in my favor! Not so fast. The gate was changed to a different terminal – mad scramble to get a shuttle to the correct terminal. On board and on my way – I thought – now I’m set. Minor hiccups when I changed planes in Dallas – but I figured the conspiracy to derail me was finally winding down.

Picked up my car in Albuquerque – loaded up & set out to drive my planned route for the day – places I hadn’t been before and some places I wanted to revisit.

Heading out on I-24 North toward Santa Fe  - the sky was huge, clouds gathering, clearly rain in the mountains. I started seeing lightening strikes – spectacular bolts. Then the storm closed in around me – heavy rain mixed with hail, lots of thunder & lightening.

And then it happened. The universe hurled the big one at me. Lightening hit my car – driving 60-some mph and the car just lost all power – luckily I had enough speed to coast to the side of the road. Entire electrical system was fried.

Short end to a long day – six hours later, the rental company finally conceded that, indeed, the car was toast. Of course, it may have helped that I screamed hysterically at them about leaving a woman stranded on the side of a busy highway in a dangerous position with no emergency lights during a storm. They brought me a replacement car, towed the toast car, and I was finally on my way.

Blessed - or - cursed?

On the Road to Taos

I’m thinking blessed. 

I wasn’t hurt.

I had a good working cell phone. The day before I’d bought a new cell phone to replace one that was unreliable – and the new phone was a lifesaver. Allowed me to make all the calls I needed to get help from the rental car company and the husband (who offered moral support and phone instruction).

The new phone allowed me to chat with a friend while I waited for hours, that’s a blessing too – it’s a good friend who will sit with you by the side of the road.

I met two great guys. Michael  - the service guy who came out to check the car and who informed the rental company that yes, the car was toast, and they needed to replace it. Michael sat with me for half an hour and talked – he’d heard me screaming at the rental agency – and he called to check on me after he’d left. And Jose, the man who brought me my replacement car – he was sweet and kind. He called every 30 minutes to give me an update on his ETA with the replacement car.

The folks at the B&B in Taos – were wonderfully supportive when I called them to tell them I’d be late. They waited up for me, and greeted me with hugs.

All in all – not a bad day.

Here Lies the Magic

Here is brief pictorial of how I put together images to create a piece of work. Sometimes I start with a vision of where I want to take a piece, sometimes the piece takes me.

First I start with a photograph that I've taken. This photograph focuses on a single rose in a bunch of white roses I bought at the local Trader Joe's - I loved their creamy color with just a touch of green.

The original photograph, a watermark is added.

I took the photograph and loaded it onto my computer the same day - I began to work on it, but then because I was not sure of the direction I wanted to take it I closed the file and "slept" on it.

I think the rose is strong enough to stand on it's own, and I may revisit it another time. But for now the vision I had in mind including incorporating another photograph I'd taken of a statue. I liked her expression and I thought she would work well in combination with the roses.

The statue, watermark added.

The next morning I re-opened the file and began to add processing, textures, and the statue photograph. The piece was evolving.

I have added a screen shot of all the steps I took in Photoshop CS6 to create the final piece. As you will see I used two texture layers, Color Effects Pro by FX, the statue photograph, and some duplication of the rose photograph.

This is a "short" version of what I did - the actual doing of it involved quite a few steps and a couple of hours (which included some trial & error). You will also see that I label my layers (or steps) so I can keep track of what I've done, this also comes in handy if I want to repeat some part of the process on another photographic art piece.

Screen shot with all the layers showing the steps. 

 

 

And finally, the finished piece.

Here Lies the Magic

And that is the process, shortened and brief. Now you have some idea of the work that goes into creating a piece of photographic art.

What If ?

"When My Ship Come In," original photograph by Terry Rowe, https://www.facebook.com/tarrowe

I'm part of a pool of friends who buy PowerBall tickets - with the intention of sharing the spoils if one of our numbers wins.

It is a fun dream to plot what I would do with the money if we won - always, of course, assuming that it would be a really big win. Dream big, right?

The typical paying off the mortgage and early retirement are the first kind of no-brainer things to do. Probably right after I retain a lawyer and talk to my financial adviser. Oh, and a really really big party.

Then what?

Donations to my favorite charities / causes. Gifts to the "kids," nieces & nephews. Other ideas include buying a vintage trailer and tooling around the US. Taking every photography class I've ever wanted to take. Trips to other countries - the list is long. I keep thinking about a "Starving Artist" art gallery - exhibitions for artists and sales at a 20% commission instead of the usual 50% - 60%.

Does money buy happiness - not necessarily. I keep thinking it would provide freedom and remove worries - but I suspect being "rich" comes with its own set of restrictions and different worries. I'm willing to give it a shot.

What would you do with a large windfall?

Signs

I believe in signs, signals that I'm going in the right direction or that I need to change direction. Road signs from the universe, or from God.

I have been struggling with planning a trip to New Mexico this year - I have no specific goal or plan - other than I want to go. New Mexico has embedded itself in my heart, I feel like I can really breathe there, and I must return. So with only a vague idea of an itinerary, and a tentative class scheduled, I booked a plane ticket this past Friday. I'll be on the ground in New Mexico for ten days - which seems such a short time.

And the signs? Saturday I made an unplanned visit to a local antique consignment store with my husband, he was looking for replacement hinges for an antique box and I was along for the ride. While he was digging through bins of hinges and clasps, I started leafing through a basket of old postcards. All of the postcards were from northern New Mexico - mostly 1970s vintage, a few from the 1940s. All of the locations were places I have visited, Acoma, Chimayo, Rio Grande, Taos, Santa Fe, Angel Fire, others. Given that I live in Virginia, finding such a large collection of New Mexico postcards I took as a sign. Driving home we passed a car with New Mexico plates, highly unusual on this coast, another sign. We went out to dinner at our favorite taqueria and one of our fellow diners was wearing a New Mexico t-shirt, another sign.

So signs - or just coincidence because new Mexico is on my mind - I'm going. And I can't wait.

New Mexico, near Abiquqiu

Stories Lead the Way

Some of my earliest memories are of my mother reading me stories. Once I was old enough to read, books and the stories they conveyed, were treasured companions.

As an artist I often think of my pictures as a piece of a story, a story that I want to share.

I create still life compositions to photograph. To set up the still life compositions I often start with a story, I select elements that will tell the story to my camera, and to the viewer.

This photograph is called "the letter."

This is a piece of the story: She got a letter in the mail. He said it was over, he needed freedom, he wanted his space. She was left with fading roses and a letter.

Telling a story, and using the story, to create art helps me fine-tune the feelings I want to convey. The story gives me the framework for my imagery.

I have been asked to create a large complex piece, a commission. It's something I couldn't quite wrap my head around until I found the story that will define the piece, the story that will connect. I'm still refining the story...

What is the story you want to tell?

Fad? Trend? Or Just a Mess.

"Waiting for You" - photograph by Terry Rowe

--> Someone recently had a comment about photography that gave me a nudge. They said, in reference to photography, "textures are a fad." They could have easily been referring to bell-bottoms or hybrid cars. Bell-bottom pants are a fad; fads come and go--sometimes in favor, sometimes not. Hybrid cars, I believe, started out as a fad that became a trend--more and more people are recognizing the economic value, as well as the environmental value, in choosing and driving a hybrid vehicle.

Photography, since it's inception as an art form (and some may still argue it's not art), has had controversies.

Some people will argue that photographs should be pure, untouched from capture to print. Ansel Adams is often touted as a prime example of a "pure" photographer--and yet, he spent hours in the darkroom, adding and subtracting light and dark, processing his photographs to his vision.

The very act of photographing anything changes it from the "real."

There are some people who claim that black and white photography is just a "trick," and that all photographs should be in color.

High dynamic range, HDR, has alternately been praised and blasted. HDR images can more accurately represent the range of colors and light in an image, but it can also be intense. The intensity of HDR images is what some people love and what others say is "unreal."

Adding textures to images in post-processing is another technique being embraced by photographers, many like the added dimensions; others decry varied texture processing techniques as a "fad" or a "trick." Sound familiar?

Many photographers are artists - taking the photograph, capturing the image, has become only half of the process of creating art. The second half of the art making is in the processing of the photograph--this can take hours of work, decisions, trial and error. The ultimate goal is a full expression of the artistic vision that began with the initial photographic image.

Maybe photographer-artists need a new name, something akin to painter or potter or sculptor. For now, I am an artist who uses photography and digital processing to create my art.

The picture above, "Waiting for You," is black and white, with texture added.

A Cherry Season

Cherry Blossom Memories

The annual Cherry Blossom Festival in Washington, DC is winding down. The 3,000+ trees that reached peak bloom this week are dropping their petals, and yes other cherry trees and spring blooms are starting to get their dress on but the massive swath of color and bloom is wrapping up.

Peak cherry bloom is kind of a frenzied time, particularly for photographers--you know you only have a day or two to catch the trees in all their glory. And you also know it will be you and several thousand other photographers, tourists, and sight-seers trying to do the same thing. Mother Nature is often capricious, but somehow she seems to be the most so at spring time. This year we had days and days of cool, even cold, weather that kept pushing the peak bloom time further out, delaying the glory. Then, boom, heat, 80-90 degree days. The cherry blossoms popped and it was game on!

I took many photos of the trees and blossoms. This one with the Tidal Basin and the Jefferson Memorial in the background was featured on the NBC Washington photo blossom page. This photograph sums up this cherry season for me.