Kat Eye Studio

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It Happened Among the Roses

Yesterday I found myself in a rose garden, a completely unplanned event. I had walked down to a local art exhibit of young artists, to get a little bit of creative inspiration. As I was in the gallery I looked out the window and there was a rose garden, in full bloom. It was gorgeous. I was kicking myself, I hadn’t brought my good camera! It was a hot and humid day and since I was walking, I wanted to travel light so I left my SLR at home. Strike one against me.

I did have my little point-and-shoot camera with me, which always does well in a pinch. I explored the rose garden, looking to find interesting compositions, color and light. Since I have Finding Form on my mind as the current Exploring with a Camera prompt, I noticed that roses are an amazing subject for the study of form. So much light and dark, along with intricate curving shapes, within a rose. I was happily exploring away when the “low battery” light started blinking and the camera eventually died. Strike two against me.

Finally, at a loss for photographic equipment, I pulled out a little sketch book and a mechanical pencil. I had dropped this in my bag at the last moment, thinking of my recent painting class and the instructor Flora’s encouragement to sketch nature. These roses were too beautiful, I felt the urge to continue to study them, and pencil and paper were all I had left.

Look what emerged on my page…

Now, I was wholly and completely stunned. I was just focusing on shapes and light and dark and look what happened? I tried another one…
Um. Yeah. Can I just tell you, I had no idea that I had these in me? I’m trying to figure out where these came from. I used to draw, back when I was a kid, but of course all art stopped when I went  for the “college prep” classes in high school and then studied engineering in college. I’ve done a little bit of drawing here and there, the last couple of years, but never had it click like it did yesterday. 
I’ve discovered a new love. Photography, painting, and now I’m going to have to explore drawing more too. The feel of a pencil on the paper, the drawing of shapes and shadow, was amazing. What would happen if I actually practiced? I’m going to have to find out.
It turns out, I’m glad that I didn’t bring my good camera. I would have never spent the time with pencil and paper if I had that camera, my first love, with me. You don’t often hear stories of where being unprepared pays off, but in this case it did!
(Linking in to Creative Every Day and The Creative Exchange today. Hello to all!)

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Share Your View: Rimmed with Light

It’s been a week since I posted Exploring with a Camera: Rimmed with Light. Have you been seeing your subjects outlined this week? If so, share them here or in the Flickr pool, we’d all love to see!

I’m on vacation this week so today I’m not able to post images from the Flickr pool today, but I’ll share some of my favorites next week as we wrap up Rimmed with Light. Instead, today I’m sharing this spring image I captured on a morning walk in Parco di Monza. I loved how the trees were outlined by light coming from the left, defining each one. As I prepped for this topic, my morning walks recently became study time. Can you imagine me, stalking people in the park with my camera as I learned the angles and backgrounds it takes to capture rim light? Unfortunately, the people moved too quickly for me to capture images good enough to share, but they sure helped me learn! Keep my experience in mind if you are struggling with capturing rim light, sometimes just observing for a while can help you learn enough to eventually capture the image you are seeking.

I hope you are having a great week, I’ll be back here on Monday!

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Seeking Beauty, Finding Contrast

As I was photographing the flowers under the trees last weekend, I started to notice the graffiti on the park wall. My goal became to adequately capture the contrast in the scene, between the natural beauty and the man-made creativity. This is very nicely executed, artistic graffiti, but it doesn’t belong in this setting. That makes it all the more interesting to me.

I also couldn’t help notice the irony of the signature and the copyright symbol. Here we have an artist seeking legal protection for an illegal act. Another contrast, layered within, that made me think. Do you think artistic protection of an illegal form of art would hold up in a court of law? An interesting conversation, for sure.

I found this after the “waiting to click” shot I envisioned, of a bicyclist riding the path through the flowers, just didn’t work out. There were no bicyclists coming by at the time I was in the park. Actually, there were a couple of men who rode by on mountain bikes, but I was looking for a dressed-up Italian woman on a city bike. Never happened. I gave up on waiting to click and went seeking something else to shoot, when I found this image.

Has your “waiting to click” shot worked out? It’s not too late to link in to Exploring with a Camera: Waiting to Click. Today is the last day to link in, and tomorrow I’ll share some new images from the Flickr pool.

Remember: If you don’t find the shot you are waiting for, that’s ok too. I’m sure you’ll find something else interesting to photograph. As this image reminds me, I always do. đŸ™‚

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Flowers Marking Time (Two Years in Italy)

April brings these lovely flowers to Parco di Monza. They carpet the forest under the trees, and never cease to make me smile. I watch the shoots as they start to push up through last year’s fallen leaves, growing tall and strong. Then the flower stems appear, the buds hinting at what is to come and suddenly, one day, they are all bursting open like fireworks, celebrating spring.

These flowers are a marker of time for me. Two years ago today, I arrived in Italy to start my assignment, and as I took possession of our apartment that first week these flowers were in bloom under the trees. I would drive by the park in those early days, see them and smile. I had the desire to walk under the trees and to capture the beauty of the flowers with my camera, but life was a blur of craziness at the time. Just figuring out where to find items in a grocery store was a major, energy-draining event.

One year ago, as the flowers started to bloom, I was able to capture their beauty. This time last year was an amazing time for me, having made it through that first year and settled comfortably into daily life, I was really moving on my creative journey. I was able to see the world with fresh eyes, to approach my photography with an unrepressed joy. I was discovering and uncovering the creative self, the artist, that had been lurking inside of me all along. The burst of creativity I felt in capturing the images of these flowers last year resulted in the first ever Exploring with a Camera post, From a Flower’s Point of View. You may recognize these flowers in the Exploring with a Camera button and page, they are the symbol of what “exploring” really means to me: coming to the world around us with wide open arms and hearts, and finding absolute joy in what is discovered there.

This week, I went into the park with my camera once again. I wanted to capture the beauty of these flowers, but I wondered how I could possibly top last year. The excitement and joy of that outing, and the love of those images, still stays with me a year later. But as always, my art reveals things about me I wasn’t expecting. With the passing of a year, I have changed and grown. I see differently. While I may have started my outing with the leftover vision of last year’s exploration, what I saw in the flowers this year was new and revealing.

This year, I noticed the shadows.

I discovered the beauty of the flowers, revealed in new way.

I saw the leaves as the canvas upon which light painted flowers.

I completely and utterly lost track of time, I was so engrossed in my exploration of light and shadow. I immersed myself in the rediscovery of these flowers, and along the way, had the sad realization that this is my last year of seeing them bloom. Two years in Italy are gone, a little over two months left. I shed a tear or two, there amongst the flowers, holding my camera.

How can I not be wistful, as I contemplate leaving a place that’s given me so much? I know it’s not Italy itself that has changed me, it has been my response and willingness to take every experience that comes my way, living life to the fullest and seeking growth. As I photographed the shadows of these flowers I realized: Italy is the canvas upon which life has painted me. It is here I learned to look closer, and I discovered myself in the light and shadow.

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Creating Art with your Whole Heart

Yesterday I read a wonderful blog post from Karen Walrond, author of The Beauty of Different. In it, she talks about heartbreak, and a philosophy that comes from another author, BrenĂ© Brown. BrenĂ©, she says, tells her she can’t be selectively numb. We have to feel both the good and the bad. We need to lead wholehearted lives.

Wholehearted.
Whole hearted.
Whole heart.

I’ve written before about following my heart. The only way I know how to truly create, is from my heart. My best work, whether it’s writing or photography, starts in the heart. It’s a feeling I’ve learned to recognize and follow. Like this morning, with this post. It came from that place of heart.

I didn’t always recognize this feeling or know how to follow it. That has come over time, as I’ve unmuffled the feelings of my heart along my creative journey. You see, in order to avoid facing any pain or darkness in my life, I had numbed myself to the good as well as the bad. It makes so much sense looking back now, that when I was willing to accept both the light and the dark in me, I was also finding and owning my voice as an artist.

We can’t have wholeness without dimension. In art, that means light and shadows on a surface, which create a three dimensional form out of two dimensional shapes. In our lives, that means light and shadows in our soul, which create the depth and dimensions of a person. For our best work, we have to come to our art with a whole heart. In order to do that, we have to come at our lives with a whole heart first. We have to unmuffle the tiny voice inside ourselves, so that we can hear both the good and the bad messages. We have to be willing to accept what we hear, no matter how uncomfortable it may be, so that we can learn from it and bring it to our art.

As I think through this, I’m realizing that living with a whole heart is an important key to claiming your artist. When you claim yourself an artist, you put yourself out in a public way, saying, “Here I am world, look what I create!” You open yourself up to the possibility of criticism or rejection. You open yourself to the bad stuff, the stuff you might want to avoid. In this way, not claiming your artist is a form of self-protection. A way to shield your heart from any pain. But in doing so, your heart is muffled and numbed. You won’t be able to hear the good messages either. Your art and your ability to create your best work will be affected.

Today, take a quick look at the status of your heart. Are you living with a whole heart? Do you allow the dimension that comes from light and shadow? Are you protecting yourself from potential hurt and pain and in the process numbing yourself to your heart’s good messages? If you’re having trouble claiming your artist, maybe this is a good place to start. It’s certainly been an important point for me to ponder, to reaffirm the desire and acceptance of living with a whole heart, because I want to hear that little voice inside that leads me to create from my heart.

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