tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59541740839474587162023-11-16T02:08:05.210-05:00TetheredElizabeth Fleminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14325381660115621135noreply@blogger.comBlogger478125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954174083947458716.post-35407151658819441282014-12-04T10:07:00.000-05:002019-12-20T00:31:08.299-05:00Welcome to the Tethered ArchiveElizabeth Fleminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14325381660115621135noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954174083947458716.post-57373005427864161562014-12-03T10:45:00.004-05:002019-12-20T00:38:51.868-05:00Hiding<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA9_DefQrE4dQxAdJmzq0zkevyX3wAEZF7L5FUsKin-bepN7JxMCGfL5JFF2tc0y5kTEfJz3dI2L1f7MFY7lh3pfIvaWkxGU2X4BBnDrIp9lZH_t6MdD6EPL_WmRy4-u0P_lbOgnMQ3hU/s1600/_MG_6157_hidingwithhand.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA9_DefQrE4dQxAdJmzq0zkevyX3wAEZF7L5FUsKin-bepN7JxMCGfL5JFF2tc0y5kTEfJz3dI2L1f7MFY7lh3pfIvaWkxGU2X4BBnDrIp9lZH_t6MdD6EPL_WmRy4-u0P_lbOgnMQ3hU/s1600/_MG_6157_hidingwithhand.jpg" width="400" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis0ovix3KK5KirUtLYpRpP50LcJlzvBdxfwE_Y7bc9xiT6T4qFJrvxMcfOZ8nsfqmZtOO3xYRIQ0dNLJ5jyvOdEg-CpsCMyaKXx9hpW5lMz2Nr7EH4ekfrZRaZ6T8x9SaSGw-LZAKrOKY/s1600/hiding+1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis0ovix3KK5KirUtLYpRpP50LcJlzvBdxfwE_Y7bc9xiT6T4qFJrvxMcfOZ8nsfqmZtOO3xYRIQ0dNLJ5jyvOdEg-CpsCMyaKXx9hpW5lMz2Nr7EH4ekfrZRaZ6T8x9SaSGw-LZAKrOKY/s1600/hiding+1.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: normal;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #292c2c; line-height: 18px;">These aren't necessarily a diptych, but I couldn't decide which I thought was stronger, so am posting both. They're another instance of </span><a href="http://elizabethflemingphotography.blogspot.com/2008/04/spontaneous-picture-taking.html" style="background-color: white; color: #76a5af; line-height: 18px; text-decoration: none;">spontaneous picture-taking</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #292c2c; line-height: 18px;"> that potentially looks staged. It was the week before last and I went into the bathroom to get Edie's toothbrush; when I walked back into my bedroom she was hiding under the dresser and only her hair was visible. It was very eerie and I really was startled for a moment. I told her to stay put of course, ran downstairs to get my camera, and the result is above.</span></span>Elizabeth Fleminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14325381660115621135noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954174083947458716.post-1511986348632186272014-02-15T10:32:00.001-05:002019-12-20T00:32:15.192-05:00Hiatus/New Path<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size:small;">Obvious hiatus going on. Seems to be a trend among a sizable enough group of photographers I know. A fair number of us were hanging on by a thread and have gone silent as of late (if one can call not blogging for nine-plus months "as of late." I could have gestated an entire baby in that time...). There are always myriad excuses, reasons, and justifications for not writing, but I suppose what it partly boils down to is a lack of "fire in the belly." Maybe the photoblog zeitgeist has blown on through, maybe it's just that I couldn't seem to gravitate over to Tumblr like so many others. Maybe it's because I was focused on "Buried on her 90th Birthday" which is now fully <a href="http://www.elizabethfleming.com/#/PORTFOLIOS/Buried%20on%20Her%2090th%20Birthday/1/">up and running</a> on my website, or possibly it's because as I inch closer to 40 there's the inevitable reevaluation, a looking into the future and seeing other options opening up. All that said, for the time being I've made a somewhat large shift and am actually in a post-baccalaureate program at Columbia University taking classes in sociology, with an eye on going back for a master's degree or even PhD sometime next year. Much to say on that topic, but I now need to go read about race, class, and family dynamics; my next post may very well be an announcement that <i>Tethered</i> is a social science blog. Lord knows my own children and life have given me a good little petri dish of power struggles/shifting motherhood roles/personality types/family structure to study in preparation for viewing the world sociologically. Onward.</span>Elizabeth Fleminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14325381660115621135noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954174083947458716.post-57691101460341826682013-04-21T21:38:00.001-04:002019-12-20T00:40:15.205-05:00Someone I Know Favorites: Bradley Peters and Maury Gortemiller<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: normal;">Throwing a quick post up about Someone I Know, I thought these two by <a href="http://www.bradleypeters.com/">Bradley Peters</a> and <a href="http://www.bradleypeters.com/">Maury </a><span style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.bradleypeters.com/">Gortemiller</a> went together nicely. Both are quirky and unique and engaging. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: normal; text-align: center;">That will be the last for now of posting about my favorites, and you won't hear much else from me either until sometime after April 28th. I'm heading to Astoria, Oregon on Tuesday to join four other photographers for an intensive <a href="http://crusadeforart.com/jenniferschwartz/photographic-retreats/">photo retreat</a> run by <a href="http://crusadeforart.com/jenniferschwartz/the-crusader/">Jennifer Schwartz</a> and <a href="http://fractionmagazine.com/">David Bram</a> and won't be arriving back in New Jersey until one in the morning the following Monday. Many, many thanks to James who will be holding down the fort, not to mention all of the help he's given me with printing and preparing my portfolio in preparation for the trip. I probably shouldn't be writing here currently, as I've still got more to do than I care to think about. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: normal; text-align: center;">Hmm, maybe this post is what they call "productive procrastination..." Long story short I'm definitely nervous, but also very excited to head out west. Ciao.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQXR7jI1LNmcYzCF-eNmRwzdMkFn72QW94ENZxNTrvmQ0oI6-NiphhkLkYhC6QGI4B3LsJn5wEwNnz9jubi9UwhJlyfJTJusC1oo-SwurH9rGG2KFX8azGya50JtIzW9tr9Xj9AmQrfnU/s1600/bradleypeters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQXR7jI1LNmcYzCF-eNmRwzdMkFn72QW94ENZxNTrvmQ0oI6-NiphhkLkYhC6QGI4B3LsJn5wEwNnz9jubi9UwhJlyfJTJusC1oo-SwurH9rGG2KFX8azGya50JtIzW9tr9Xj9AmQrfnU/s640/bradleypeters.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: normal;">Untitled (girl in snow with lamp) © Bradley Peters</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj59pMqmnhyphenhyphenhIxfl3zPfn6zbw4JExwx0FSZsBqhW52mLy8fAq6lc2INSaUNpAcxl4RWhjb-yl7FSqOnOM1qHVH5lFGF5YrR2spN4gK_2xUmcYIYlHC5M1cfm-CJ0fD4zFiKrsYHhvSsS4c/s1600/maurygmain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj59pMqmnhyphenhyphenhIxfl3zPfn6zbw4JExwx0FSZsBqhW52mLy8fAq6lc2INSaUNpAcxl4RWhjb-yl7FSqOnOM1qHVH5lFGF5YrR2spN4gK_2xUmcYIYlHC5M1cfm-CJ0fD4zFiKrsYHhvSsS4c/s640/maurygmain.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: normal;">Mom in the Backyard © Maury Gortemiller</span></div>
Elizabeth Fleminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14325381660115621135noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954174083947458716.post-15310984426811855362013-04-18T15:47:00.002-04:002019-12-20T00:41:08.905-05:00Someone I Know Favorites: Susan Worsham<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: normal;">I had the pleasure of getting to spend some time with <a href="http://susanworshamphotography.com/home.html">Susan Worsham</a> at Review Santa Fe in 2009; she's one of those people who embodies her pictures, or maybe it's that her pictures embody her? Some of both is probably it. Bottom line, her passion in talking about her work was wonderful to witness. And I really don't think I've seen the range of hues she has in her photographs in anyone else's images, they're like a perfect cake frosting that's been transformed into something more melancholy and contemplative and wholly original, as can be seen in the image below. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieUNIBHUANr1VUpPz_FeViFbPtyTcNHm8vjLJVo4IbwyaMYGWBT9QzV1wT4fIHUyyuvczbtY6-VIYuR4Q9E2eqnMW2Ou4zyAosDtPus7tlct7kJCm3VqVypNK6-A2I5n9J8MdtD5nuoMU/s1600/susanwmain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieUNIBHUANr1VUpPz_FeViFbPtyTcNHm8vjLJVo4IbwyaMYGWBT9QzV1wT4fIHUyyuvczbtY6-VIYuR4Q9E2eqnMW2Ou4zyAosDtPus7tlct7kJCm3VqVypNK6-A2I5n9J8MdtD5nuoMU/s640/susanwmain.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: normal;">Georgia, The Day After The Family Dog Died © Susan Worsham</span></div>
Elizabeth Fleminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14325381660115621135noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954174083947458716.post-58232885614501055632013-04-16T11:53:00.000-04:002013-10-30T12:41:21.634-04:00Thinking of Boston<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
A very sad day in Boston, the world is so scary and inexplicable at times. The vulnerability random acts like this one, Newtown, and others bring up is difficult to deal with, but this time around I am able to find some comfort in <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pattonoswalt/posts/10151440800582655">a post</a> by comedian Patton Oswalt. So today, instead of focusing on the fear, I'm trying to focus on the good by finding a little bit of beauty, as seen in this sensitive and lovely photograph by <a href="http://brianwiddis.com/">Brian Widdis</a>, one of my favorites from <a href="http://www.someoneiknow.net/index.html">Someone I Know</a>. Be safe.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRUEOS-Y8EXAl9AXlQo40sklHm__HF_7GGNso5hwPTgDP-vNaEJHJOEmDuhQzCbe81Bc-gDji6ud_FZng1ek66Jme3xwM9D-KpgA7br0cPLPU7EPcq2GBSfC_nvQzVitVabnsl7CkBHYg/s1600/brianwiddis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRUEOS-Y8EXAl9AXlQo40sklHm__HF_7GGNso5hwPTgDP-vNaEJHJOEmDuhQzCbe81Bc-gDji6ud_FZng1ek66Jme3xwM9D-KpgA7br0cPLPU7EPcq2GBSfC_nvQzVitVabnsl7CkBHYg/s640/brianwiddis.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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"He Said 'I Hate The Sun'" © Brian Widdis</div>
Elizabeth Fleminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14325381660115621135noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954174083947458716.post-59473631765882536592013-04-10T11:33:00.001-04:002014-04-14T14:19:50.823-04:00Someone I Know Favorites: Colleen Plumb<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I've dropped the ball again on consistency in posting, the girls have been on spring break so not much is getting done around here. Excuses out of the way, how could I not pick this image as a favorite? Even before I had the pleasure of meeting <a href="http://www.colleenplumb.com/">Colleen Plumb</a> in person a couple of years ago I was a fan of her body of work "Animals are Outside Today" which you can see <a href="http://www.colleenplumb.com/naturepages/sweatshirtpage.htm">here</a>. Colleen also has two daughters around the same ages as Edie and June and a newer <a href="http://www.colleenplumb.com/gridsnew/01grid.htm">in-progress</a> series focuses on more domestic surroundings, akin to the picture "Elsa in the Living Room" below. It's not just because this shot shows a favorite and familiar subject matter, but because it's a beautiful image in composition, light quality and expression. Now off to the zoo with the kids where I'll see the sites through different eyes thanks to Colleen.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM9MNM5xLTsw93OC1WmQWbwCwZOc8GPh7X6e4eoVSSZxXglZEz7LodNdphwiZAGUVO8lbshFFe64ExBGwGdhEno02lA8zpA9t2izl2HPeTGloCS_WeIxKHTduceRgj8FznadRfr6iuoCs/s1600/colleenpmain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM9MNM5xLTsw93OC1WmQWbwCwZOc8GPh7X6e4eoVSSZxXglZEz7LodNdphwiZAGUVO8lbshFFe64ExBGwGdhEno02lA8zpA9t2izl2HPeTGloCS_WeIxKHTduceRgj8FznadRfr6iuoCs/s640/colleenpmain.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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Elsa in the Living Room © Colleen Plumb</div>
Elizabeth Fleminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14325381660115621135noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954174083947458716.post-64461918407042291262013-04-07T14:10:00.000-04:002013-04-07T14:10:05.717-04:00Someone I Know Favorites: Irina Rozovsky<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I was hoping to be able to post my favorites daily but I had to head down to Philadelphia for a baby shower for my sister and editing blog posts on the iPhone proved maddening, so I decided to just let it go and wait until I was safely back in NJ. Below is <a href="http://www.irinar.com/">Irina Rozovsky's</a> contribution which I find impressive because it's sad and funny in equal measure, which makes it that much more moving. I find that when I look at this picture I both get a lump in my throat feeling sorry for this sweet dog, while also not being able to help cracking a smile. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRxwuDbzAla_4Y9DOMmRobl7iPOy5V7UxfsLwlUE_fGdljl6AME1DtOLkAfzD-1_vZUR8-w0usgqni1dC4JOPPx0ifs3N0jIPoqbwnOfreKtMTC7M8UUvWfR1p9WlebXWb8dC-imY1Eks/s1600/irinarmain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRxwuDbzAla_4Y9DOMmRobl7iPOy5V7UxfsLwlUE_fGdljl6AME1DtOLkAfzD-1_vZUR8-w0usgqni1dC4JOPPx0ifs3N0jIPoqbwnOfreKtMTC7M8UUvWfR1p9WlebXWb8dC-imY1Eks/s640/irinarmain.jpg" width="502" /></a></div>
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Gosha © Irina Rozovsky</div>
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Elizabeth Fleminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14325381660115621135noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954174083947458716.post-1561605590010325452013-04-04T16:35:00.000-04:002013-04-04T16:44:56.568-04:00Someone I Know Favorites: Todd StewartFrom here on in I'm going to randomly choose which picture to show from my <a href="http://www.someoneiknow.net/">Someone I Know</a> favorites list, so there's no hierarchy. I think it would hurt my brain too much to have to put the photos in order from first down to seventh. Without further ado I present you with <a href="http://toddstewartphotography.net/">Todd Stewart's</a> portrait "Dad, 2013." Beautiful--I love how his hair mirrors the smoke.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy0Zff-_W-hzZTOjrydFO-j6NagP7DVqu0kG-L6rf-HXZG-m1iYFIAMOhF1KvTthckjcOtIbT5hrvvoKbyY9zO4pz10sl7wMm-r7fsERvpJaXZNDqe7Ldr2cEtmnr0zXn4v2ANHeNSYUA/s1600/toddstewart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy0Zff-_W-hzZTOjrydFO-j6NagP7DVqu0kG-L6rf-HXZG-m1iYFIAMOhF1KvTthckjcOtIbT5hrvvoKbyY9zO4pz10sl7wMm-r7fsERvpJaXZNDqe7Ldr2cEtmnr0zXn4v2ANHeNSYUA/s640/toddstewart.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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© Todd Stewart</div>
Elizabeth Fleminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14325381660115621135noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954174083947458716.post-64435766035972894052013-04-03T16:26:00.002-04:002013-04-04T16:45:19.490-04:00Someone I Know Favorites: Justin James ReedI just looked over the "<a href="http://www.someoneiknow.net/">Someone I Know</a>" website again with the aim of choosing some of my favorite portraits to share here. Interestingly, as I scrolled through the images I began to think as if I were a juror, being immediately drawn to some, feeling not very interested in others, and finding that certain photographs jumped out as true favorites during my second viewing. In a way it really did bring home the fact that all judging is very subjective--you hear it over and over again but when you're in the middle of it yourself you can see that it all does come down to a matter of taste.<br />
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Many of the images I like are admittedly similar to my own, not necessarily in subject matter but in feel, as it were. Others I can't explain why, they simply sparked an immediate reaction, a sense of relating to both the person and the manner in which they were being presented. Through this process I also realized that it would be a difficult task to narrow the pool to only three as they did for the CENTER awards. It's comforting to recognize firsthand how the images immediately following what I would pick as the finalists are just as intriguing and strong, and on a different day could have been the "winners." I hesitate to turn this into a contest at all given my own recent experience, and honestly as I tried to narrow it down I just couldn't decide on an absolute final three myself. I'd say currently I have seven favorites, so I'll be showing one a day for the next week.<br />
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First I give you <a href="http://www.justinjamesreed.com/">Justin James Reed</a>; he's a photoland friend and an extremely talented artist, so much so that I own one of his prints. I promise there is no bias in how I picked his portrait--even in a blind taste test this image would be at the absolute top of my list:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip3KHSVEdjOawDQA2065tI7jeI8j5hsxVWYKCGWPWmwkBEJ-Hhj4dbrUD366_KOPG7HnXbxKjl16syhLNd3oz9JmXBCYtcWcLmiZaJOofHxCzVeyMNFT-sPhQYxTY-9eygQAHXWIMAY1s/s1600/justinjrmain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip3KHSVEdjOawDQA2065tI7jeI8j5hsxVWYKCGWPWmwkBEJ-Hhj4dbrUD366_KOPG7HnXbxKjl16syhLNd3oz9JmXBCYtcWcLmiZaJOofHxCzVeyMNFT-sPhQYxTY-9eygQAHXWIMAY1s/s640/justinjrmain.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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© Justin James Reed</div>
I really encourage you to look through all of the other portraits on the site, it showcases some serious talent and I'm honored to be sandwiched in there among so many fantastic images.Elizabeth Fleminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14325381660115621135noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954174083947458716.post-23058322649877952002013-04-02T17:21:00.000-04:002013-04-02T17:21:09.370-04:00Someone I Know<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEsDcrd6bNUokkuo8C07_y3Gra6S5FY3ScH0tQxYsMoa55GxeiercvGwQelwve7f5wS-ZBrZeUWFY5PisP5xQbboZRPJsPA3vOycQ8gZ4Gk10ixL58ShKIroaWMxxlkgK5SOPUGtfOQMQ/s1600/pinkeye.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEsDcrd6bNUokkuo8C07_y3Gra6S5FY3ScH0tQxYsMoa55GxeiercvGwQelwve7f5wS-ZBrZeUWFY5PisP5xQbboZRPJsPA3vOycQ8gZ4Gk10ixL58ShKIroaWMxxlkgK5SOPUGtfOQMQ/s640/pinkeye.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
I'm very excited to have the above image included in Stuart Pilkington's latest endeavor, "Someone I Know." He has five other equally intriguing projects--I was part of "The Chain" last year (my contribution can be seen <a href="http://www.chainproject.co.uk/elizabethfleming.html">here</a>) and he also curated the the popular "<a href="http://www.50statesproject.net/">50 States Project</a>" in 2009. "Someone I Know" has a really amazing collection of photographs; I'll be posting some of my favorites in the days to come. In the meantime I highly recommend<a href="http://www.someoneiknow.net/"> taking a look</a>.<br />
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Regarding my photograph: the due date of March 31st was getting fairly close, I'd had months to submit my image, and though I'd halfheartedly taken some other photographs I wasn't really happy with anything. Strange to say it, but I got lucky enough to have my kid come down with pinkeye. Voila! A perfect picture opportunity was handed to me and I ran with it. Elizabeth Fleminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14325381660115621135noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954174083947458716.post-2793889163542366002013-03-27T18:01:00.002-04:002013-03-27T18:01:47.815-04:00Double wah.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia9Dk5fPNLTgBYbc4hdkrlb0RnG22btZwxpICeMDlxiF_D6aosRsaP8b9NIM8I8gbules6Tyu6KxKEB1TBzzk7CTzqJt5hT1T-N28372Cpeb25wuPJd2v91RQYGgg1oPt9ukOPkWP_Nl4/s1600/_MG_1002_grave_june.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia9Dk5fPNLTgBYbc4hdkrlb0RnG22btZwxpICeMDlxiF_D6aosRsaP8b9NIM8I8gbules6Tyu6KxKEB1TBzzk7CTzqJt5hT1T-N28372Cpeb25wuPJd2v91RQYGgg1oPt9ukOPkWP_Nl4/s640/_MG_1002_grave_june.jpg" width="640" /></a>And this is pretty much how I feel about getting two rejection emails in the span of 15 minutes. Blurg. </div>
Elizabeth Fleminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14325381660115621135noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954174083947458716.post-27861001236655914182013-03-27T15:49:00.000-04:002013-03-27T15:49:07.336-04:00Wah.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This is pretty much how I feel about one image that I can't quite get right today. </div>
Elizabeth Fleminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14325381660115621135noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954174083947458716.post-23603470363246423942013-03-18T14:26:00.001-04:002013-03-18T14:26:35.011-04:00Nothing bigMy last post was three months ago, and while I've started other entries a number of times, I haven't been able to finish any of them. It's the paralyzing force of perfectionism--if I'm going to say something it has to be big, it has to be profound, I have to use a thesaurus and there can be no typos. But today when my home page came up with the title of that most recent post, I knew that I couldn't look at it anymore and that I needed to put up something, anything just to be able to move forward with my writing. I don't want to abandon the blogging enterprise, so I'm trying to let go of feeling like I need to talk about deep things in favor of trying to create some sort of habit, which means sometimes being satisfied with saying small things and sometimes not reading over what I've written five times to make sure it's just right.<br />
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I've been revisiting editing shots from the summer--I posted a similar one a while back--so I thought I'd show a few other variations. I think I might start pairing images together to create a sense of time. The danger in that is possibly ripping off Paul Graham, but he's not the first and won't be the last, so I think if it feels right for the work maybe I have to go with it.<br />
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Elizabeth Fleminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14325381660115621135noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954174083947458716.post-84265397077770448962012-12-18T16:02:00.000-05:002012-12-18T16:02:04.419-05:00NewtownThis is such a hard post to write, because what I feel goes beyond words. My tendency when in deep distress is to isolate--I'll share my emotions with a few people, which helps for a bit, only to return home to hide out again. In the case of the last few days this has meant spending too much painful time looking at news sites, trying to make sense of it all, even though it will never make any sense. I suppose struggling to share how I feel here is my attempt at reaching out, a way of giving shape to the sorrow and the fear that I know I'm not alone in experiencing.<br />
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It's frightening even to type the words because it makes it that much more real--what happened in Newtown on Friday was so shocking and horrifying it's impossible to grasp. I spent that first afternoon struck dumb by a state of disbelief. Over the weekend I tried to push my feelings aside in order to tend to the girls; I saw people, went to a party, spoke to my mother on the phone, and somehow couldn't bring the subject up. I stuck to safe topics, dancing around the rawness, all the while surreptitiously checking my phone for details. As the weekend went on I could feel the pain encroaching on the edges more and more, and by Sunday night my defences came down and the heartache began to set in.<br />
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Yesterday dropping the kids off at school was physically painful. I'm uncomfortable being emotional in public, so after they walked through the doors I tried to hold myself together, waiting until I was home to break down. I think what happened at Sandy Hook in part has been so hard for me because it echoes my own life a little too closely--it's been difficult to distance myself from the sense of loss. June is in first grade at a similar public elementary school in a pretty suburban neighborhood, and it strikes right to the core of me. Apart from the feelings of grief the shooting has brought up in relation to my own personal fears is the deep sadness I feel for the families, in particular for the children themselves. I think that may be the worst part of it--the unfairness that they won't get to live out the potential of their lives. It is also profoundly sad to me that teachers, the people who care so much about the welfare of children, had to die.<br />
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For my own girls I've been able to be my usual self when with them thankfully, and despite my sadness I had a nice time with them last night. June wrote a story which she stapled together into a book called "My Poor Puppy" which she had me read to her about thirty times, and I didn't mind a bit. Still, the deep love I feel for them stabs at a bittersweet nerve. Now I'm hoping to be able to stay away from news in all media and focus on the day-to-day: continuing to do my work, trying to allow myself to be mindless on Pinterest, Instagram etc., without guilt, while tending to the usual laundry and dishes. The typical domestic monotony now feels like a gift.<br />
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The only thing I can really close with is to say how sorry I am to the mothers and fathers, siblings, children, relatives and friends of the victims, and for the community of Newtown. The tragedy is beyond comprehension.Elizabeth Fleminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14325381660115621135noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954174083947458716.post-63210870773746277052012-12-07T20:18:00.001-05:002012-12-07T20:18:48.841-05:00New portfolio/new images<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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There's way too much to write--when I wait this long to post it feels almost impossible to begin. But given the amount of editing I've been doing lately I want to have something concrete to show for it, so in addition to the images above--which I've been putting together for <i>Life is</i> from the spring/summer/fall--I've also decided to begin showing some work from Iowa on my website. I consider it an "under construction" venture for now, which means I'll be uploading, rearranging and obsessing over image quality to the point where from one day to the next the gallery might look very different. Despite that, I'm making it public because having it out in the world helps to keep me feeling motivated and connected. The portfolio is called <i><a href="http://www.elizabethfleming.com/#/PORTFOLIOS/Carlisle%20(under%20construction)/1/">Carlisle</a></i>, which is the name of the town where the farm is located, and you can take a peek at the preliminary edit <a href="http://www.elizabethfleming.com/#/PORTFOLIOS/Carlisle%20(under%20construction)/1/">here</a>, though I think that first image might be too magenta. Or dark. Or something. It might even be gone by the time you check it out. Ok, don't listen to me, I'm going a little crazy over here--too much time spent staring at a screen, along with my usual artistic monkey mind.<br />
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That's it for now--the other post I was going to write about vulnerability, what it means to be true to oneself during the creative process, and my usual broken-record "Desperately Seeking Balance" thoughts will have to wait for another day.Elizabeth Fleminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14325381660115621135noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954174083947458716.post-2753017324308731822012-09-27T14:13:00.001-04:002012-09-27T14:13:18.275-04:00Latest<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I'm finally buckling down on my Iowa project; more and more it looks to be shaping itself into book form. I was out at my grandparent's farm again at the end of August and shot a number of images, some to round out what I already had, along with some new photos--mainly from the burial of my grandmother's urn where the kids went a little excitedly nuts shoveling dirt into the grave. No kidding. Since then my brain has been full of how to best express all the thoughts I've been having about place, family, legacies, loss in the form of physical objects, and what we can tell about people from the things they collect. That part of the series feels like it may need to be a fairly long accompanying essay. As a result you'll probably continue to not hear as much from me on the blog--part of me every day is composing some sort of post that delves into the Iowa project, and part of me is holding back because it's not coherent enough yet and I don't want to get sidetracked from the bigger picture.<br />
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The image above has nothing to do with Iowa, but I came across it when searching for older farm pictures and it reminded me that you never know what you might have overlooked the first time around during the process of editing. This one will probably get added to Life is, which I'm still shooting here and there--it's inevitable as the kids invariably still do wacky things. Like fighting over who gets to throw the next mound of dirt into a gravesite hole.Elizabeth Fleminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14325381660115621135noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954174083947458716.post-47944802776670500202012-08-11T16:06:00.000-04:002012-08-11T16:06:19.605-04:00Lens on Life book<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Some months ago I was contacted by <a href="http://www.littlepurplecowphotography.com/">Stephanie Calabrese Roberts</a> to be part of a book she was writing on documentary photography. Stephanie had <a href="http://shuttersisters.com/home/2009/3/26/this-six-questions-featuring-elizabeth-fleming.html">interviewed me</a> back in 2009 for the site <a href="http://shuttersisters.com/">Shutter Sisters</a>, a collective of female photographers who share impressive resumes, and considering that she's a member of that group, was already the author of the best-selling <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1600599230?ie=UTF8&tag=coolpeopleikn-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=1600599230">The Art of iPhoneography</a>, founder of the non-profit organization <a href="http://www.lensonlife.org/">Lens on Life</a>, and is a talented documentary photographer in her own right, I was more than happy to agree. She came to visit me here in Maplewood and I spent a fantastic afternoon with her as she conducted our interview and asked thought-provoking questions about my process and work. She then came along to pick up the girls from school, after which she took pictures of me taking pictures of them.<br />
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The book, entitled <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Lens-Life-Documenting-Through-Photography/dp/0240821149/ref=pd_sim_b_5">Lens on Life: Documenting Your World Through Photography</a>, was just released last month and I'm very honored to have my own chapter among a group of photographers that includes some serious veterans in the photo world. The other artists are <a href="http://www.elliotterwitt.com/lang/index.html">Elliot Erwitt</a>, <a href="http://www.sionfullana.com/">Sion Fullana</a>, <a href="http://www.edkashi.com/">Ed Kashi</a>, <a href="http://johnloengard.com/">John Loengard</a>, <a href="http://www.bethrooney.com/">Beth Rooney</a> and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rick_Smolan">Rick Smolan</a>. You can purchase the book on <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Lens-Life-Documenting-Through-Photography/dp/0240821149/ref=pd_sim_b_5">Amazon</a>, <a href="http://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?i=0240821149&i2=9780240821146">photo-eye</a> or through most other major booksellers. Here's the press release to give you more info:<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">"Mostly candid and spontaneous, documentary photography serves to preserve a moment in time. In <i>Lens on Life</i> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">celebrated documentary photographer and author </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Stephanie Calabrese Roberts inspires you to explore, shoot, and share documentary photographs, guiding you as you define your own style. Illustrated with the author's striking artwork and diverse insight and perspectives from other seasoned photographers this book will sharpen your artistic intuition and give you the confidence to take on personal or professional documentary assignments. Full of advice that will challenge you and strengthen your photography, <i>Lens on Life </i></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">shows you how to capture an authentic view of your world."</span><br />
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Many thanks to Stephanie for giving me the opportunity to be part of her project!Elizabeth Fleminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14325381660115621135noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954174083947458716.post-61352465299499307302012-08-09T16:45:00.000-04:002012-08-09T17:39:54.405-04:00Death of four fish, all at once<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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Rest in peace Brainy, Stubby Jr., Spotty Jr., and Goldie III, we hardly knew ye. Actually, you lasted longer than your various namesakes, which I must give you credit for. Despite your untimely demise(s) I'm comforted by the fact that you all passed on at the same time and thus are in fish heaven keeping each other company. </div>
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It was a bit shocking I have to say--at bedtime they were swimming around in their tank on June's dresser as usual, and not more than two hours later all of them were belly up. Luckily the girls were asleep and so avoided seeing the horror with their own eyes, but I think James, as the keeper of the fish, was mildly (temporarily) traumatized. He took excellent primary care of the buggers (since I refused to help other than tossing some food in occasionally) but when he cleaned out the tank the day before they died the new water must have been funky, through no fault of his own.<br />
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I should mention that our tadpole Supertad (whose name would have had to evolve into Superfrog, if he'd ever managed to evolve himself) kicked the bucket the day before the fish. Poor guy, we put the blame on him for being a weakling, thinking he was a runt due to the fact that in two months all he'd managed to do was sprout "legs" that were the size of sesame seeds. Now we know better, so to you Supertad (wherever you are) I offer my apologies.<br />
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As always what's interesting to me is how the girls react. I must admit I was sort of avoiding the topic until Edie herself noticed the fish were gone and asked where they were. I put it to her straight and she was like "iiinteresting," practically stroking her chin in imitation of a detective deep in thought. I decided to deal with June another time as she was off playing happily, but later I heard her ask Edie why the tank was lacking its occupants. When Edie replied calmly that "they all died, all at once" my heart contracted a little in my chest as I heard June begin to wail. Just as I was heading up the stairs to comfort her Edie added that Goldie had "a bunch of babies" just waiting at Petco for a decent home to call their own, and June immediately perked up and hasn't mentioned the matter since, even a good week later. So much for those poor lonely goldfish orphans.<br />
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Over the years we've had our share of household animals die. The first experience for the kids was with our hermit crab Jed--you might remember me writing about the experience ages ago in my post "<a href="http://elizabethflemingphotography.blogspot.com/2009/02/death-of-hermit-crab.html">Death of a hermit crab</a>." I revisited the topic when Jed's sister Lila followed his example about a year later in "<a href="http://elizabethflemingphotography.blogspot.com/2010/01/death-of-hermit-crab-ii.html">Death of a hermit crab II</a>." There wasn't much fuss over her, and as we continued our string of bad luck re: crustaceans there was similarly barely any fanfare over the passing of Jed II, Fancy and one whose name I can't remember because it looked like a rock and had a personality to match.<br />
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More devastatingly to the grownups in the Worrell-Fleming household was having to put our sweet dachshund Frida to sleep. I briefly mentioned some of Edie and June's reaction in "<a href="http://elizabethflemingphotography.blogspot.com/2011/02/my-famoly.html">My Famoly</a>"[sic]. I was surprised at the time by how well they handled it, taking it pretty matter-of-factly overall, while James and I sobbed in bed at night. We were so shell shocked I managed to drag him five days later (and two days post gallbladder surgery mind you) to meet a dog I'd come across on Petfinder. (The site was my puppy porn in the days after losing Frida; I found it strangely comforting as I tried to process dealing with a suddenly very empty-seeming house.) In retrospect it all happened startlingly quickly--we had said we'd mourn for a year or so and then start looking, but the universe works in mysterious ways (as does grief) and the next thing we knew there was Willa.<br />
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If I'm to be honest that first month or so with her was extremely difficult. She was a rescue, very sweet but very scared--and not fully housebroken, despite what her foster family might have said. Plus it was the winter of the wretched back-to-back snowstorms, which blew in just as we brought her to live with us. I kept wondering if I'd made a mistake--she felt like an interloper; I didn't know what she needed or liked and I compared her constantly to Frida, who was a much different companion. Frida was the dog who didn't give a shit and would look at you like "I know what you want me to do but whatever and good luck with that" while Willa was the opposite, staring at us with what the girls call "buggy eyes" as if to say "if you discipline me I will sit on your feet and shiver until you show me you love me and will never leave me." Despite my own hesitation the kids were instantly smitten and attached, and the best part about Willa is that she loves children and wants to be as close to them as possible, which obviously serves us well.<br />
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And here we are a year and a half later and I love her like crazy. Still, it's weird to me that it's been that long since Frida died. I don't even want to think about what the girls would do if anything ever happened to Willa, because she's truly their first real pet. Frida was around before they were, and so she was James's and my dog. Willa is James's and my and <i>their</i> dog, because they got to know her just as we did and they were able to bond with her from the beginning. She'll be the dog they talk about when they're off at college, the one they miss and the one who with any luck will be rheumatic and grey but still waiting at the door for them when they come home to visit.<br />
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P.S. You know you're a photographer when your husband goes to flush your fish down the toilet and you yell "wait! I want to take some pictures!" You know your husband's a photographer when he gets it.</div>
<br />Elizabeth Fleminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14325381660115621135noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954174083947458716.post-25862118182565281942012-08-07T11:55:00.001-04:002012-08-07T11:55:33.433-04:00James Worrell interview with Evan Kafka on A Photo EditorA few plugs for my (if I do say so) talented husband <a href="http://www.jamesworrell.net/">James Worrell</a>. The first is an interview he conducted with the also very talented <a href="http://evankafka.com/">Evan Kafka</a> which is up on <a href="http://www.aphotoeditor.com/2012/08/07/studio-visit-with-evan-kafka/">A Photo Editor</a> today; you can read the entire interview <a href="http://www.aphotoeditor.com/2012/08/07/studio-visit-with-evan-kafka/">here</a>. In addition to his commercial photography and impressive interview skills, James also makes humorous and excellent videos. He recently did one highlighting his latest promo which you can see on <a href="http://vimeo.com/45861233">Vimeo</a>; I helped put the M&Ms in the light bulbs, thank you very much.<br />
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I don't say all this just because James is my husband--it's nice being married to someone whose work I admire and enjoy, so giving him a little PR is something I'm happy to do. Now off to edit, thanks for looking.<br />
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James on the left, Evan on the right. Handsome fellows.</div>
<br />Elizabeth Fleminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14325381660115621135noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954174083947458716.post-67339968868074188632012-07-15T13:04:00.003-04:002012-07-15T13:04:41.519-04:00By the way...I failed to really mention what the original motivation for my last post was before I went off on my little tangent: the crux of work/life balance for me, always and obviously, is the effect it has on Edie and June. My fundamental struggle (and, yes, what much of my photographs have been about, a blessing and a curse) is how to not fail them. I think I'm a good mother mostly, but when I'm like this I fear the main thing they hear coming out of my mouth is "hold on." That I'm only half present with them because I have so much going on in my brain, that they're yelling in my ear while I'm picking at the guitar or clicking the shutter. My goal today is to answer when they call, and really see them when I'm with them, and to refrain from using TV as a babysitter this coming week. Here's to you, Buddha.Elizabeth Fleminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14325381660115621135noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954174083947458716.post-30836848668809823302012-07-15T12:26:00.001-04:002012-07-15T12:26:20.448-04:00Am I making sense?My work/life balance is really suffering lately. It feels crazy to complain about being obsessed with taking pictures when I've written so much about struggling with my "fallow" periods. With apologies to my believing audience I must say I think astrology is pretty much baloney, but given there seems so be no explaining when I happen to be fixated versus when I'm in the doldrums maybe I should chalk it up to the phases of the moon. Generally there seems to be no why or wherefore to my moods, all PMS aside.<br />
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I write the above because a bit before last week I was in a fairly stable state of what I like to think of as "elated working mode." Then, bam, I fell down a crevasse into "screaming ego" working mode. What I mean by that is it seems when I'm on the cusp of really getting to the core of a series my ego/gremlin, with its insecurities, superiority complexes and general attempts to distract, roars up. Maybe there's a non-astrological explanation after all...<br />
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Being in the core of creativity, really lost in the flow, means the gremlin is often forgotten. I think there's a certain power that comes from finding your voice, feeling the truth of your images, feeling like a tiny corner of the universe has been lifted and time has less authority. And in psychology they always say that when a person is about to have a big breakthrough their ego is afraid it will be exposed and dispensed with, and comes up with every trick it can think of to ensure it isn't buried. As a result a good deal of diversion gets thrown into the mix: obsessions become worse; past hurts feel real and threatening; any compulsions seem impossible to stop. Fear is very present--the fear of being judged or abandoned or misunderstood. It's the easy path in many ways (what James calls "Path A"), chewing over regrets or rejections, a familiar and habitual state to embody.<br />
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Conversely, this can also be a motivating thing: within the insecurities is an absolute need to make pictures because a certain fire is burning. It's like a desperation to understand, and the art is the potential key. Or I suppose it can feel like the only way to deal. In particular I find myself turning back to making self-portraits joined with writing like I did for The Ten blog many months ago <a href="http://blog.thetenphoto.com/tenblog/2011/9/27/a-day-in-the-life-of-photographer-elizabeth-fleming.html">here</a>.<br />
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I'm not sure I'm making any sense--I've read more self-help books than I care to mention--but my overall feeling is essentially that making art is powerful, and power for some people (me) is fucking scary. Obviously we need our egos, and they're not the devil, but they don't always have a place in that deep-down flow of creating.<br />
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So back to work/life balance: whether I'm joyfully immersed or making pictures as a way to cope with my OCD I have a hard time focusing on the day-to-day of what needs to be done. I don't empty the dishwasher so then I can't load the dirty dishes. I have piles of laundry waiting to be folded, not to mention put away, so the kids never have underwear in their drawers. I don't answer emails. James picks up the slack and I feel guilty that he's pulling more than his weight. I also play guitar and it's a similar situation: the girls will be fighting, cranky because they need dinner, or it's time to get bedtime rolling, and I'm staring at tabs, ignoring it all. Let's put it this way: they're watching way too much TV and eating way too much macaroni and cheese and mom is seriously distracted.<br />
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Look, I recognize that I'm sounding quite victimy here. My complaints are, I don't know, fairly self-indulgent and also potentially humble-braggy. I'm afraid to hit the "publish" button. Honestly I'm not entirely sure what I'm trying to say except that writing is another part of this whole puzzle, and I feel compelled to get it all out there, to type away in my robe at 12:25 PM when I should be showering and getting my act together. But you know what I really need to remember? Time is not my enemy and it will all get done, it always does. And feeling nuts never lasts forever.Elizabeth Fleminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14325381660115621135noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954174083947458716.post-89758591539844363842012-07-09T13:22:00.000-04:002012-07-09T13:51:51.091-04:00Thinking about submissionsWhen I stare at my work for long periods of time while trying to select images for juried show submissions it becomes more and more difficult to "see" my photographs. At a certain point I have no compass from which to gauge my own personal reaction to the layout of the pieces. In some ways I think this is why I often wait until I'm down to the wire to get my act together--when I have to work under pressure there's less opportunity to obsess over minutia, or to continually rearrange the order of the pictures, or to try to decide between one photograph and another, going back and forth and back and forth.<br />
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As the years pass I've continually made an effort to decide what to show based not on some notion of what a juror might respond to but on what I respond to (which is not easy. At all.) Still, there's sometimes an almost desperate feeling that comes over me: what if I substitute these images and get rejected, whereas if I'd only submitted those other ones I would have gotten in? It's a game of "what ifs" that is completely and utterly ridiculous--and somehow very seductive. Stepping back is a tough one--sometimes it has to be as simple as throwing in the towel for the day and returning fresh in the morning. Sometimes that next day brings no clarity and I just have to settle for what I think is my best, or even sometimes what I think is "good enough" because my eyes are crossed and my brain is fuzzy.<br />
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Today I've been twisting my head into knots working on my Critical Mass entry because I've never made it past the finalist round and this year is the first time I'm not going to use "Life is" for my submission. It feels like a risk because it could either finally bump me over that elusive edge to get me into the top 50, or it could be the thing that lowers me a peg to not even making it to the finalist round. A big comfort for me is reminding myself as often as I can that it's about the process of making and editing my series, and that submissions are an excellent tool to use as a means of organization and study. When I can lose myself in the process I get into the flow of moving things around, pondering what the work is about and with every entry hopefully finding ever clearer ways of saying "this is it."<br />
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On another note, I always like to include an image with every post, so below you can see one of the shots I took in Iowa--it's a page my dad found of his baby footprints taken by the hospital when he was born. It might still need some tweaking, but that could just be me obsessing again. Habits are hard to break!<br />
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<br />Elizabeth Fleminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14325381660115621135noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954174083947458716.post-82416907860724844892012-06-01T16:50:00.002-04:002012-06-01T16:50:59.777-04:00Iowa<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Iowa, 2008</div>
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Iowa, 2012</div>
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My lack of writing has not been from lack of inspiration, for once. If anything I've been buckled down in a mad rush of images and thoughts. The impetus isn't one to really celebrate I admit, so I feel a bit hesitant to say that the source of my current motivation has been my grandmother's death. She passed away on April 29th, a few months shy of what would have been her 90th birthday. She'd been in and out of the hospital for a good long while so it wasn't unexpected, and she'd lived a full and active life. Part of her legacy is a property in Iowa that is nothing short of fascinating, at least to me.<br />
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She and my grandfather built their ranch house in 1951 on a large piece of farmland in Carlisle, not far from Des Moines. Over the years they added a few rooms, raised a good number of pigs, used the fields for corn and soybeans and had a nursery business on the property. The nursery is long gone and the hog house has been locked up and full of junk since before I was born, but what amazes me is how fixed the interior of the house has managed to remain over the years, with the same stove leaking a vague gas smell to the red shag carpeting matted down in the back office.<br />
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I've photographed the house and surrounding land over the years, but it was after the girls were born and I was fully entrenched in "Life is a series of small moments" that the rooms had an especially strong pull. When my grandfather died in 2008 I did some intensive shooting over the few days we were there, and used some of those images in earlier incarnations of "Life is." Eventually they became phased out when the series started to gel more, particularly in relation to theme of childhood (obviously.)<br />
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Most recently I'd been using photographs from a 2011 family summer visit in my newest (yet to be named) body of work, but those images are mostly of the property, and are less specific, for lack of a better term, than my pictures from a few years earlier. Jump to the present and it's all specificity--I spent three whirlwind days in town for the funeral taking pictures when I could spare a minute, and I returned with my father the next week for two nights (but only one full day) of marathon picture-taking. I returned last Wednesday and between both trips I have a plethora of files to wade through.<br />
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I'll be putting up some of the images in the days and weeks to come as I begin to edit in earnest; for now let's just say that I came across a roll of Tums with a foil-printed label stating they cost 15 cents from who knows when, among many other things, so there were treasures to be found, and I have some stories to tell.Elizabeth Fleminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14325381660115621135noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5954174083947458716.post-2808738522698110842012-04-24T13:25:00.003-04:002012-04-24T13:25:51.799-04:00Act of creation<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Hello. How are you? Me? Well, I whacked my head on a mailbox Easter weekend at my parents' house and ended up with three staples and four stitches on the top of my head, but that's about it excitement-wise. Luckily for me it was under my part and missed cutting my forehead by about 1/8 of an inch so no one could tell. The doctors didn't even have to shave my hair, so my vanity was spared. I wasn't really out of commission for long but it was an excellent excuse for procrastination. Which means, as is my habit lately, not writing anything here for the last month. </div>
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I think I spend half (or more?) of my artistic process feeling stuck. James told me yesterday that one thing to do is to see the gremlin in my brain, touch it, say hi and then take the other path. However, he and I agreed that it's a slow and frustrating process. The attempt to dig new, healthier furrows along my synapses can be very daunting. The small-step way to think about it is the well-known notion that if I made one image a day by the end of the year I'd have 365 pictures, which is a hell of a lot. But guess what? I suspect that many (most?) of you artists out there get frozen thinking about how 364 of those pictures might be garbage, even though you and I both know that you have to make a bunch of crappy work to get a gem. I admit it, I like instant gratification. I want that body of work to come together <i>now</i>. I want to be immersed in the fun part of the creative process, when it's all coming together, without making the shitty pictures first. </div>
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Case in point: lately I've had all of these ideas for paintings, collages, installations, mixed and multi-media, and I get these flashes of excitement thinking about the overall potential for the work. Then I put a canvas in front of me, arrange my paints and Mod Podge and various bits and pieces I've collected for visual use and I freeze. Like I said, I want it to be brilliant off the bat. And the gremlin goes: your ideas? They've been done a million times before and are booo-ring. You'll never stand out. Anyhow, isn't this all supposed to be about the Act of Creation, with rays of sun pouring out of the sky, without a care as to what other people think, without a single worry about "success" and "recognition," you not-true-artist-material, you. </div>
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Luckily sometimes, blessedly, a little hopeful voice clears its throat and talks back. It says something like: you never know. Weren't you just watching a spot about Art Basel on "60 Minutes" and some dealer was waxing on about some sculpture that was made out of extension cords and lightbulbs hanging on a metal rack as if it was the next kingdom come? I think the word "peripatetic" was bandied about. Now I'm sure there's a pile of meaning behind the piece--perhaps some artspeak artist statement that mentions "inertia" and "melancholy"-- but...still. If that extension cord lady can sell a pile of ugly for $33,000 then there's hope for me. I understand that other, more interesting work probably led to her success and the resulting admiration for her hanging lightbulbs--but, again I say, still...</div>
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I don't know, I don't mean to sound bitter, or come across as one of those people who misses the point of challenging work by saying my kid could do that. I've been to art school, I understand complexity and layers of meaning. Maybe the first extension cord artist was brilliant. After a google search I'll admit some of the above artist's other work is certainly more interesting, though still not my favorite. Bottom line is, I've simply always appreciated art that is as much about visuals as ideas. Show me something that makes me feel something already--it doesn't necessarily have to be pretty or "well-crafted," just make it more compelling than a haphazard arrangement of found objects. I'm continually amazed at how it seems like every Whitney Biennial has to have the requisite plywood piece. How do curators choose one hunk of plywood over another anyway? How can there possibly still be anything to say with a pile of boards? I don't care how peripatetically nomadically Lacanian it is. </div>
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There, I said it. </div>
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Now it's time to face that blank canvas and the unedited images from my last shoot. Feel the fear and do it anyway (and don't get sidetracked by email and Pinterest.) As an aside, I just ordered Lynda Barry's two inspirational books <a href="http://www.amazon.com/What-It-Is-Lynda-Barry/dp/1897299354/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1335287782&sr=8-1">What It Is</a> and <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Picture-This-Near-sighted-Monkey-Book/dp/1897299648/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1335287782&sr=8-4">Picture This: The Near-sighted Monkey Book</a>, maybe they'll help kick my mean voice to the curb...</div>Elizabeth Fleminghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14325381660115621135noreply@blogger.com3