Sunday, July 29, 2007
Homage to Brett Weston
Today carol and i woke up spectacularly late. We drank tequila together the night before - something that i swear i'll never do again. Tequila, never again. Never.
Then, it was raining; a really thick, heavy rain that came down like shards of glass. I could hear it smashing into the pavement and like electricity it buzzed it's way into my brain amplifying my already spectacularly difficult to handle headache.
Carol made breakfast and i took two excedrin. I couldn't eat. It was only a matter of time, though, before the excedrin would kick in. 45 minutes, i thought to myself. Twenty minutes into it, my head was on the table and i had fallen into a dream. Carol forced me back to the bed. Only twenty minutes left Carol, i swear. I'll only be down for twenty minutes...
... and so i was. 25 minutes later, headache a thing of the past, i was in the shower getting ready for our pre-planned trip to the museum. Carol prepped a picnic and stuffed it in my backpack.
dstely black. Very nice. Another, higher key print, was of a large mist with the wall emerging from either side of it. This pic isn't the exact one, but it's a nice print There were a couple of prints that i could have sworn were over-burned.
It was lucky that i had seen the Chen exhibit first cause i prolly wouldn't have seen much in them otherwise. The Weston prints were beautiful to look at. I walked through the exhibit three times and each time, i had to stop and stare at a new print.
I loved printing BW photographs, i loved processing BW negatives, and i loved exposing BW film. With each print i passed, i remembered a moment of my own - printing the portrait of Holly and her dancer, printing the wasp on the antenae, and on and on ...