"Photography helps people to see." - Berenice Abbott
When I scroll through my photo files, a few main themes emerge: my hobbies, my family, my home and its immediate surrounding area. I don't travel much, and in fact, would rather be at home than just about anywhere else. It's where I feel comfortable; it's who I really am. You've probably also noticed these themes in my photography; I tend to take pictures of the same things over and over again, in different seasons, at different times of the day, from different distances. I am a creature of habit: I like predictability, I feel better when I know exactly what's coming.
One of my favorite subjects to photograph is Sandia Peak, the mountain overlooking Albuquerque, my adopted home. I have an excellent view of the peak from my backyard and I can often be found snapping photos of the peak during my waking hours. I write about it often - possibly too often - but I can't help it; the view fascinates me. And there is this: it's mine. I can look as long as I want, I can take a million photos if I like. It never gets old because it never looks exactly the same way twice, even within the same day. My photo archives contain hundreds of photos of the peak; I think I may be peak-obsessed. I've been up there a few times, to hike, ride the tram or eat in one of the restaurants, but mostly, I'm happy to watch from my yard, or from inside my house when the weather is disagreeable. But even then, I'm usually willing to bundle up and stand out there as long as I can, camera in hand, perched atop a small brick stoop outside my bedroom, right shoulder leaning hard against the door.
Everyone has a unique perspective; everyone knows exactly what they will see when they look out the windows of their own home. I see rock, sky and cloud. I watch the color of the granite change throughout the day, moving through a spectrum of gray and pink as daytime turns to evening. The sky over the peak is my best indicator of the weather coming our way: crystal-clear bluebird skies or lowering, angry skies; innocuous cotton clouds or roiling, tumbling ones. The plants in my yard pinpoint the seasons; the mountain's shifting tableau subtly suggests them. With my camera, I capture the ever-changing, never-changing mountain as the days, seasons and years pass.
Don't forget to visit the other Color Collaborative blogs for more of this month's posts. Just click on the links below:
CJ at Above the River
Sarah at mitenska
What is The Color Collaborative?
All creative bloggers make stuff, gather stuff, shape stuff, and share stuff. Mostly they work on their own, but what happens when a group of them work together? Is a creative collaboration greater than the sum of its parts? We think so and we hope you will too. We'll each be offering our own monthly take on a color related theme, and hoping that in combination our ideas will encourage us, and perhaps you, to think about color in new ways.