iPhoneography

So you know you can take photos with your phone, but did you know you can put pretty photos on your phone?

You could have one of my very analog Polaroid prints gracing the glass of your very digital iPhone.

Choose from thousands of original designs on Society6. I am so pleased to be among the artists selling fine art prints and device skins there. Coast over and have a look.

(I'll be adding new photographs to my Society6 shop all month. Like my Facebook page for occasional updates!)

Amaryllis

My amaryllis is a jolt of tropical sexiness right about now. This and the premature hint of spring in the air are turning my thoughts to gardening.

I have a little greenhouse shoot planned for later in the month. Can't wait to be bathed in light and moisture with all those tender plants.

Chocolate

The last five boxes of this lovely (out of production) Polaroid Chocolate film that I am ever likely to possess are stored neatly in my frig. This morning was the perfect day to open the wrapper on this little box of sweetness.

And who doesn't love a little Chocolate before lunch? Warm, luscious browns and soft, buttery tones. (Too bad I don't have any of the edible variety on hand. I'm workin' up an appetite.)

Fall Color

The new house is slowly revealing its charms to me. One of my favorite is the bittersweet vine which trails up the mulberry tree in the side yard.

I've known it was thriving there through a handful of seasons, but this fall with my little boy, my cabinet of cameras and my collection of hand-knit scarves all tucked away under the eaves, this bittersweet vine has seemed to bloom there just for me.

 

I love its little burnt orange seed heads. And the way they wear their bright yellow collars, looking like they just got caught in a stiff fall breeze.

So, why the exploration in shades of grey? Hmm...  I suppose it's like a cup of black coffee after a bowl of peaches and cream.

Creamy

I don't usually see it when I begin. And not when I am knee deep. But when I'm wrapping up, with instant film drying and gracefully aging all over my work table, I begin to take notice.

Photographs like to set themselves up in series. I'm thinking of this week's little grouping as "Creamy."

Good film. Good light. Oh, and not incidentally, a really good new studio which lacks for nothing. Dedicated space. Glorious space. And orderliness. A real catalyst.

Reflected Pink

Been messin' around with mirrors lately. For the obligatory profile pic of self with camera.

"Why do I need one of these?" I keep askin' myself.  "Because you are building a following," I keep replyin.' "And you are gettin' ready to open a shop."

Painfully, I marshal on juggling mirrors, Polaroid, dark shields, timer, tripod and goofy expressions. Alas, nothin.'

Except this. Huh.... Could I substitute pink petals for a portrait?

Bittersweet

For the last two days the light wheel on my Polaroid SX-70 has been dialed all the way to "lighten." Because light is curative.

Inches upon inches of rain have fallen on us lately. Anything from the garden that did not rot in place I have snipped and set out on antique linen. Two afternoons (in a row!) of sunshine in the studio windows, and I have a few creamy white prints to show for it. Finally.

Bumbling

As I get a little older, I am more willing to make mistakes and look goofy in broad daylight. Younger, I preferred to exude confidence and keep my mistakes hidden in the back of my closet. A few more years behind you, you know you're bluffing.

Strolling through my archives today, I found this little Polaroid gone wrong. Wrong but in an almost right kind of way.

Even though I horribly miscalculated the ambient temperature that morning and over-exposed this lovely bit of Impossible Project film, I'm happy to share my mistake. Put it right out there. Where you may perhaps find it inherently charming.

Summer Rental

 

For the second year, we returned to a little house that we've come to think of as our island home. Nothing fancy really. Lumpy beds, dull kitchen knives, a broken player piano and lobster traps piled in the dooryard. 

But, there's a collection of 80's vinyl for the turntable, and we can hear the Vinalhaven Ferry fog horn when we're making coffee. No cell service. No internet. No TV. Just the sound of the ocean in the distance and the occasional apple dropping from the tree outside the kitchen window.

Of course, the camera collection was tucked into my tote bag. I gave my new old Polaroid 250 a try with a pack of Fuji instant film.

I'm in love.

Polaroid Week 2011. Thursday

Our garlic harvest is in. The big guy spent last evening hanging it in the garage to cure. The smell is great in that hot, dry building right now. Earthy with just a hint of garlic.

And a garlic plant has the most beautiful texture. Papery with a fringe of roots. Needless to say, a bundle of plants ended up in front of the lens for Polaroid Week (and the morning light in my bedroom window deserved a second take).

Peas in a Pod

Back in March, the peas went in to the garden. It seemed impossibly cold and forbidding, but up they came as peas will do.

Last week (bigger peas than these) matured, and we had one little side dish of our own peas with a drizzle of sesame oil and toasted sesame seeds.

But, not before I got them under the lens of the old Polaroid camera (as you might have expected).

Summer Time

With the Independence Day weekend approaching, we're doing just what we otta be doing.

Sleeping late. Diving into the pool before breakfast. Fighting the squirrels, chipmunks, robins, cardinals, deer and that *&%!# woodchuck for the mulberries. Eating them with vanilla ice cream. And generally enjoying summer, while the ivy grows a foot a week up the side of our little corner of heaven.

Water Lilies

Last weekend the boys went out on Silver Lake for a little fishing, and the big guy brought home a fist full of water lilies for me. They lasted just long enough to capture this shot.

(Much happier to be home playing with the antique camera than in a flat-bottomed boat dodging the occasional wayward cast.)

New Color

Spring has finally arrived in the Hudson Valley, and with it tons of new color.

I, alas, am completely out of film. It is killing me. I burned through this stock of expired chemical Polaroid in winter. I flew through a fresh supply of "new" color film with... um... lack-luster results. Yesterday, however, the next generation of The Impossible Project's color film hit the stands. It's in the mail, and it is capable of color. Lots of color. Deep reds and glowing oranges.

Thank. You. New color is on the way (if only that beautiful spring chartreuse will wait for me!).

Through a Mist

Experimental. That's what they call this new film. You can't really call it Polaroid, since that factory is long gone. But, experimental you can call it.

It's been a challenging week. Involving filters, lighting, a thermometer, a hot water bath, timing, shielding and mostly fumbling.

The result? This. And only this. 15 other shots. All squandered opportunities. And, even though it represents endless failures and near misses, this little shot is growing on me.

(Thank goodness there's a new color film recipe nearing it's launch date, cause this batch is not for the faint of heart.)

Pale Yellow Cup

The first daffodil of spring has opened in the garden. The reward for a long, snowy winter.

The Impossible Project

Many thanks to the folks at The Impossible Project for choosing this photograph as a fave over on Flickr. Bounce over there and have a look at the lovely photographic possibilities with their resurrected film.

The fragility of the colors and the ephemeral nature of these prints make working with Impossible's early versions of their films an adventure in analog photography.

Tuesdays in Thailand

Oh, how I miss my local market in Chiang Mai. These tiny little Thai eggplants are essential in a good green curry. Though I've searched in the best markets here, none are to be found in my part of the Hudson Valley. This year I'll find some seed and plant them in the garden. Authentic green curry by August!

Petals

Petal soft. My late winter windowsill garden delights with the delicate scent of Primrose and texture of fragile petals (continuing our theme of the week).

Fading Love

Faded Valentine rose and faded Polaroid film. A lovely combination.