Time to visit roll #7 that I've run through the Hassie. As I warned you last week, this roll reflects a riveting tour through and around our house.
(So, you know, apologies in advance.)
One thing first, though: I think, 7 rolls in, I finally feel like I know this camera. I get how it works, I've figured out how to frame the shots, (which was actually a bit of a trick, because it's harder than it looks to go from framing a shot in a rectangular format to a square format), and for the most part, vertical lines are vertical when I mean them to be. So that's good.
Going forward, I'd like to start finding subject matter that calls out to be captured on film. So, I can't promise weekly Hassie shots (though I'll try), but hopefully I'll make up for it in quality, rather than quantity.
But for now, you get my house.
The shot above is Marcus working on one of his bikes in our garage. Just so you know, if I were to keep a camera trained on Marcus all weekend long, at least 50% of the captured images would be of him doing something with his bikes: riding a bike, cleaning a bike, taking a bike apart, putting it back together again. Another 10% would be of him on his computer surfing for bike things: mountain biking video, new bike parts, new helmets, shoes, gadgets. The man is obsessed with bikes.
If he ever meets a girl shaped like a bike, I'm in serious trouble.
This is a photograph of an Easter lily sitting on our dining room table, looking into our living room. I mean, the view is looking into our living room; the Easter lily isn't actually physically looking at our living room. That would be weird.
And this ...
... is a picture of the same lily in our entryway. Because I like to move lilies around my house. Apparently.
This is a photograph of Rufus staring at me like I'm crazy, while I move the lily around my house.
What?
This is one of my favourite paintings in my house, "Emancipate," by Sheryl Pierson. (Aside: as I'm typing these words, George Michael's Freedom is playing on iTunes -- weird!). Sheryl does a series of paintings featuring Mona Lisa, and when I was looking online for a reason why the Mona Lisa was so important to her, I found this:
In a series within the body of work I have used the image of the Mona Lisa to symbolize the traditional role of women. Poor Mona has been trapped in that landscape for centuries. I have tried to give her new freedoms, new ways to express herself.
Dude. Even the decorations in my house are feminist teaching moments. Poor Alex is going to grow up empowered, or I'm going to die trying.
(The more truthful reason behind why I bought the painting: I was reading Dan Brown's The Da Vinci Code at the time, and this painting has a lot of similar imagery to the book, and I took it as a sign that I had to have the painting. Also? Mona's holding a white calla lily, and I carried a bouquet of white callas on my wedding day. So while I am definitely a feminist, I'm also not particularly deep when it comes to choosing art. I just thought the painting looked cool.)
And this picture is a photograph of wet rainy leaves from our back garden.
I'm trying to think of something profound and meaningful to say about why I took that photograph, and what raindrops and wet foliage mean to me, but ...
... yeah, I got nothing. So I better just quit while I'm ahead.
Have a great weekend, friends.
(As you know, this has been a crazy week. But, there was still some lovely in it -- and this is why I have a gratitude practice.)
