And now, for something completely different . . .

For those of you who are not huge fans of Monty Python’s Flying Circus, the title of this post is taken from that show.  The show used it as a humorous transition from one ridiculous sketch to another, equally ridiculous sketch but on a totally different topic.  And while I make no claim that you’ll find this post humorous in the least (unless of course you think the image is so ridiculously poor that it’s laughable), it is something totally different than what I’ve rambled on about over the past couple of weeks.

One of the big advantages of the move to Portugal is that my office now has the large cabinet that previously was in Ann’s office.  For me that means not only do I have my old book shelf lined with books, I have extra book shelf space to boot.  In particular, I have much more shelf space for the over-sized photography books we have.  Which means most of those precious gems are in my office.  Periodically, when I need a break from work, I’ll roll my desk chair backwards, spin around, and grab one of the books off the shelf.  When I really need a break, I’ll take that book and sit in the comfy chair I also have in my office.  That’s what I did the other day.

As some of you know, Brett Weston is my favorite photographer.  His father Edward and friend Ansel Adams are better known, but there has always been something about Brett’s images that connect with me.  He was one of my early photographic discoveries (thank you Cowgill library) and the thrill I get from studying his images has never left me.  Well, the book I grabbed was one of his; one that we’d purchased not long before we left the US.  Which means looking through the elegant, oversized images was a joy and presented me with some unfamiliar images.

Brett Weston was one of the first photographers that really made me think about, and appreciate, abstraction in the real world and how the precision of photography can create an image that, at the same time, records the subject as it is and as an abstract image.  Much of Brett’s work was done by framing things in ways photographers had not framed them before; simply looking at familiar things but in new ways.  However, another big part of the impact of his images came from how Brett printed his work.  Ansel Adams (or was it Edward, or both) once said he thought Brett was the best printer he’d ever seen.  He was a true master in the darkroom.  Brett had no fear of pushing an image into blackness.  Yet his blacks are never a blank black, nor do his images ever look as if there is too much contrast, despite black blacks and white whites.  There is always a rich tonality to his images, even when they are extremely stark.

While slowly working my way through his images, a particular image of mine came to mind and I decided I needed to work on it.  To push it perhaps a bit farther than I normally would.  To have no fear about what might result.  

I guess the only question I have is whether to carry on this line of thinking with other images.