Touches of Fall
Saturday, September 23
For me, photography is a record, a way to capture forever something temporary. I look for texture. I look for color and light and shadows, something that catches my eye. It can stand alone, or it may be the way it interplays with its surroundings. It could be the delicate details or a splash or block of color. Wherever I look, there is a photo.
While shooting this morning--which, by the way, is one of the most perfect, summery days I've ever seen--I noticed these leaves along the creek flowing out to the ocean. They were the only touches of the new season in sight, ever so small, nearly overpowered by the sun.
At first glance they are just leaves on the ground. But there are no trees on the beach, so they were carried from inland by the wind then the current, and footprints and pawprints and water-sculpted sand now surround them, and these little elements create temporary still lifes and abstract art, only lasting til the next tide or gust of wind.
For me, photography is a record, a way to capture forever something temporary. I look for texture. I look for color and light and shadows, something that catches my eye. It can stand alone, or it may be the way it interplays with its surroundings. It could be the delicate details or a splash or block of color. Wherever I look, there is a photo.
While shooting this morning--which, by the way, is one of the most perfect, summery days I've ever seen--I noticed these leaves along the creek flowing out to the ocean. They were the only touches of the new season in sight, ever so small, nearly overpowered by the sun.
At first glance they are just leaves on the ground. But there are no trees on the beach, so they were carried from inland by the wind then the current, and footprints and pawprints and water-sculpted sand now surround them, and these little elements create temporary still lifes and abstract art, only lasting til the next tide or gust of wind.
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