Sometimes, I have so much work to do that I become paralyzed -- not able to decide which way to go. That may explain why I haven't even written anything about the things that I am doing, am trying to do, and must do. Often, those are three entirely different things.
One goal that I have is to do more art. I work as a photographer, but my true desire is to turn the photos into more painterly images. The subject matter that comes to mind varies greatly. A mentor of mine has a theme that is easy enough to visualize and to realize: a woman in a white dress. His woman-in-a-white-dress theme can be carried out in many different settings, under varied lighting situations, and can be interpreted in many ways, with nearly any sort of white dress. Having a theme like that to fall back upon when the creative juices go stagnant helps to get them going again. It's far better than trying to come up with something from scratch. So, I was able to drum up a model for a showing at the eleventh hour who owned a white dress and who wanted to be in one of my images. That's a good start. Jeannie worked out great for a last-minute session. I've also been doing trade with a young cosmetologist named Jodie who has modeling aspirations, so that's helped to add to the catalogue of images with which I can work to make the elusive a-r-t. I still need more, though. Maybe not more models, per se, but more images. I have Byrce 4, which is a great program for generating basic bits of scenery for backgrounds. That means that I wouldn't have to leave my cozy little office space to brave the hardships of an artist on-foot. Oh, I've had to deal with all sorts that come out when I have a camera. Once, I was photographing a building at night that a client wanted for a project. It seemed like a quiet enough evening, with low foot traffic, far enough from a road to avoid the honking and jeering. Then, what should disturb the evening's time exposure, but a rollerblader who wanted to chat? He may have been college-age, wearing all the recommended safety gear.
"Hey!" he started.
"Hey," I replied.
"'Taking pictures?"
"Yup." Of course, I was thinking something more like, "no, I'm riding a bicycle on the ceiling."
"I couldn't help but notice that you were taking a picture of my building."
"You're Pat Neff?" I replied with understated incredulity.
"No-no -- I work in that building."
"Oh." I was beginning to wonder how many monosyllabic responses I would have to give before he rolled away. Thankfully, it didn't take that many more before he did. It's always the goons. It's never a 6-ft tall supermodel who needs alluring shots for the new photo CD she's trying to market, no. It's because of the creeps that cameras inevitably attract that I dread going out there.