Readdressing Creative Processes

At times I think it can be helpful to have several mediums in which to express creativity. That way, when one outlet fails or becomes too stressful, there is always another. For me, I quite like the rewards of baking, the extra spoonful of love that seems to be included with a handmade card, the sense of 'achievement' that comes with building an Andy Warhol Campbell's soup can on Minecraft, or taking a photograph which manages to capture how you see the world / feel about it. The latter is something I've always had a liking for, and yet is one I've never really taken beyond my 'click and point' camera.
Over the years, I've been absorbed and inspired by many wonderful photography exhibitions (one of the luxuries of having lived in London) and I enjoy flicking through books of photographs for those images that make me think 'wow'.
Anyway, as a result of my writing being slow (and slightly painful at times) I decided to make an effort to take more photographs. To learn more about the technical side of photography. To teach myself something new. To have a different creative hobby which might in turn release the poetry from my head. To take images without the pressure there seems to be to write a line or stanza.
Below is one of the photographs that resulted from an early morning Sunday walk on the beach...
...and below is the poem which resulted from the above photograph.
Re- Focus
I slowed the shutter speed, increased the ISO. By the time the image appeared on the camera's display there was nothing left - a world bleached into obscurity. The receding tide, wet sand and resting gulls now lost in a thick, glaring white. A whiteness like that I imagine in death, in the middle ground, in the space between this place and the next.
Later, when I downloaded the photographs, they looked like errors: The missing subjects, the lack of color and contrast. But as I began to edit, dragging the 'brightness' slider backwards into negative figures, I watch as a faded gray structure pulled itself from the absence, sharpening, gradually becoming darker - its iron legs lifting from the fog, as if refusing to disappear.  
Thank you for reading,
Lara Email ThisBlogThis!Share to TwitterShare to Facebook

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