A creative condundrum

Yesterday I posted a request for feedback on Facebook, to help me choose 3-4 of my favorite photos to produce as samples both for client demonstration and a couple of events I am attending.

What came back was a bit of a surprise. Despite me being a big fan of color and really wanting to define myself as a "colorful photographer", the most popular images were black and white. One friend even went as far as to say that I should choose just black and white images to help me stand-apart.

Hmmmm.

I'll be honest... my heart sank. I don't want to be identified by my black-and-white images, or as the "black-and-white" photographer. Granted, these are just opinions and I am the ultimate decision-maker in how I define my work but it was a little jarring to realize that people connect more with my black and whites. Since I create images for other people, I cannot completely ignore what this is telling me.

There could be some logical reasons for this, of course.

First, I will readily admit that some images have a particular emotional pull for me and that, in many of these cases, I choose to edit those images as black and white because the color can distract from the emotion. So, maybe what people are reacting to is this relationship my black-and-white choices have to the emotionality of the images?

Secondly, maybe people, in general, prefer black and white images. Maybe I am alone in loving the beauty of color.

Lastly, of course, it could be that the way I process color images is not appealing. 

Hmmmm. Again.

Although I want to personally define how I creatively process images, I am interested in hearing YOUR constructive opinions here. 

What do you think is behind this? Is there something about my color images that is lacking for you? If so what? Or am I totally overanalyzing this?

If you need some reference point, I invite you to visit my website: www.mbymphotos.com and click on Portfolio, or visit my Flickr Stream at http://www.flickr.com/photos/britvixen/.

What think you?

SHOOT...

It's been a while...

... since I messed with of the I Heart Faces Fix it Fridays. But I loved this photo of this beautiful little girl so much, I was compelled to participate this week. Sometimes it's just so fun to edit someone else's image because you have no attathment to it, except for the aesthetic.

Since I'm keeping a tighter reign on the content of my Memories by Michelle blog these days, experimenting stuff will now come to Ms. Ranty Pants.

BEFORE / Straight out of Camera

AFTER / My edit

See more cool edits over at I Heart Faces

Our 4th of July...

... was supposed to be like this:



... but wound up like this.



Sigh. Parenthood. Full of curve balls.

In short, my 4th of July weekend was supposed to go like this:

1. Arrive in Tahoe on Friday afternoon. Reeeelax with my good friend, Kim.
2. Wedding photo shoot on Saturday. Return home. Drink wine with Kim. Watch our kids play.
3. Sunday and Monday. Swim in the lake. Drink wine. Hang out with family and friends. Reelax.

Instead, my Friday was hijacked by my day job. Completely insane amounts of work. My drive up to Tahoe was 3 hours long, stuck in traffic. The wedding went great but on Saturday night Daisy did not sleep barely a wink. I think I got 4 hours of sleep... intermittently. On Sunday morning it was obvious that things were not heading in the right direction: Daisy was lethargic and unhappy. By Sunday afternoon, she wouldn't sleep and had a temperature. Hubby and I conceded: we probably needed to go home. Nothing wonderful could be achieved by staying in Tahoe with a sick toddler who was constantly whining for home.

So we left the house we'd rented with friends in Tahoe, the beautiful 80 degree weather, and drove back down to the hellish heat of Sacramento, exhausted and dejected.

I was not only pissed that we'd wasted money on a vacation rental we had barely had time to enjoy but I had really looked forward to spending some time with my good friend, Kim, and relaxing for a couple of days before heading back home to my insane schedule. It just seemed horribly unfair, given how stressed I had been about getting up there in the first place: the preparation, the packing, the trying-to-close-out-work, all with little pay-off. Sigh.

Instead we abused my willing mother and passed our sick toddler off to her for the majority of July 4th, while Hubby and I sought an afternoon's break from the heat at the movie theater. We then bought $90 of ear-piercingly loud fireworks, which we half-heartedly set-off in front of our house the minute the sun went down.

As it turns out, it was just as well we left Tahoe. A visit to the pediatrician this morning confirmed that Ms. Daisy has a raging ear infection. Poor kid has had a low-grade fever for a few days now, her nose won't stop running, and her eyes are watering like crazy. I feel so bad for her (and us!)

Here are some photos from the two halves of our doomed weekend.



Hudson, who Daisy was having a blast with until... well... you know.



Hudson and Kim, braving the FREEZING lake water.



The calm before the storm





Beautiful Lake Tahoe, where the water was clear, the temps relatively cool, and where snow still capped the mountains.



Back down to triple-digit heat and a more low-key 4th.











For all July 4th photos, click here.

This is the 2nd of 3 Independence Days as parents that have been goddamned awful. I am living in hope that future ones will prove to be more fun.

Maybe it's the ghosts of the Founding Fathers paying some kind of rotten joke on the Brit?

Orangevale Farmer's Market

I live in Orangevale, CA. It's one of those unincorporated backwaters of Sacramento County, stuck between the more prestigious zip codes of Fair Oaks, Roseville, and Folsom. Where they have new home developments, manicured lawns, and higher-end retail, we have horse property, farm animals, wild turkeys, dusty roads, and a bit of a reputation for being quirky. I kinda like that about it. We're close to everything but without the burden of having to host any of it. Of course, I'd rather be downtown in a big city, but that's a whole other conversation. As far as areas of Sacraghetto go, it's one of the better ones.

Recently, the local Dairy Queen (hub of Ovale, second only to WalMart, of course) decided to start a Farmer's Market. You know how these things go: you show up ready for some major fruit and veggie deliciousness and find one, lone dude peddling funny looking strawberries. Well, my parents showed up expecting more a couple of weeks ago, got talking with the owners, and hey-presto the Farmer's Market became fruits, veggies, and "crafts".

And that's how my parents wound up with a 10x10 outside Dairy Queen tonight, selling little bags and trinket-type things that they couldn't sell in previous retail ventures.

We turned it into family night. Burgers, fries and blizzards on the dusty pavement.















Yeah, we know how to have a good time around these here parts.

Brit Bits Part Three: The Big Sheep

That's right, I said "Sheep", not "Sleep'.

The thing I can almost GUARANTEE you don't know about England (unless of course, you live there) is that there is SO MUCH TO DO if you have children. And, being it's a fairly small country (750 miles approximately from top to bottom and, on average, about 125 miles wide), wherever you're at there is always something close by.

One of the most ingrained memories from my childhood was summertime Sunday day trips with my parents. We would jump in the car and start driving, usually with no particular destination in mind. We would ALWAYS find something to do - a pretty village to explore, a summer fair, a castle, a stately home, a steam railway, a Roman ruin, an amusement park, a model village (haha, you've never heard of these have you?) a zoo, a safari or wildlife park, a petting farm... I could go on-and-on...

Most of these activities are relatively low cost and cater to a broad variety of age groups, so there is something for Granny, something for you 13 year old, and something for your toddler.

The Great British Day Out is really something I have missed. I was literally ACHING to share it with Daisy and Hubby.

When we arrived at Trimstone Manor, I immediately grabbed a ton of tourist brochures and set about determining where our first port-of-call would be. It was a difficult task, weeding through everything close by that I thought Daisy would enjoy - and of course, if we were willing to drive more than 90 minutes, there was even more I could have come up with. But given we'd already subjected the poor thing to a 24 hour travel day, I was looking closer-to-home.

Hence THE BIG SHEEP.

You can click the link to learn more about everything this theme park offers but basically it is a young child's fun zone, themed loosely around sheep and farms. I expected it to be an hour visit, maybe two, but we spent ALL DAY there. Daisy had a blast.

There were sheep to pet and feed, up close and personal.





There were fun little rides for Missy to mess around with









And most importantly, there were the bouncing cushions.





... which were even more attractive for being surrounded by a sand pit (sorry yanks, we don't have sand "boxes" in the UK.) Daisy LOVES sand. Or, at least, she does now. We could have done with that enthusiasm a year ago when we were in Jamaica.



It wasn't entirely clear if she loved the pillows or the sand best but it was her favorite spot in the park.

The frustrating thing, however, was watching all the other kids of the same or similar age bouncing around merrily on their own, while Daisy WHINED for me (or, when I forcefully abdicated responsibility, my Mum or husband) to go with her, hold her hand, or pick her up. Hence, it turned into my mission to get Daisy to bounce solo by the time we went home to the U.S. because it really sucks to be the only adult not enjoying a nice sit down while your kid runs off and happily joins in with the other kids.



(Clingyness and whinyness, as we well know, are on the top of my list of mummy no-nos. I just don't do them. Period.)

Just when you're ready to write your kid off as scared of her own shadow and completely unadventurous (yes, I jest... slightly) we head into the awesome indoor play area for lunch and some more fun.

Inside there was this really tall slide. You know, the kind with all the bumps and where you need to sit in a little mat to get from top to bottom? I looked at it and thought: NEVER. But I asked Daisy anyway. She said she would go with me. And so we did, me fully anticipating that we would get to the top and she would balk at the ride down, monkeying on me and screaming blue murder.

But she didn't.



And she went with Daddy too!





And, just like that, my faith in her was restored all over again.

She even went in the ball pit. (Albeit, with Daddy in tow - the only adult in the ball pit.)



If your kid is the sort of kid that naturally runs off to run, jump, climb, slide, swing, or explore, this may not seem like a big thing to you. But Daisy is not like that. Her first word is usually "no" (please, no commentary from my friends - I get the irony) and she is a tad cautious, generally speaking. As an only child, I worry she doesn't have a sibling egging her on and so she'll sit back and not try stuff. This is my BIGGEST parental fear, in fact; that she will let opportunities and experiences pass her by. I know, I gotta let it go a little bit because she is who she is but it doesn't mean to say I can't be happy when I see her try new things and jump in feet-first!

And so BIG SHEEP was a success. I always knew one of the main reasons I wanted to have a kid was to share things with him/her, to look at the world afresh through his/her eyes but I never realized just how amazingly fun and heart-fulfilling it would be to actually do it!

We were only on Day 2 and already the trip was turning out to be everything I hoped it would be, and more.

Tomorrow: Watermouth Castle where there was this....



and where we communed with gnomes.

(Hey, I said there was a lot to do, I didn't say some of it wasn't bizarre!)

Brit Bits Part One: The bit about the journey

We are back from our first transatlantic trip with Ms. Daisy and oh what a fabulous trip it was. I can't even begin to tell you how fantastic it was to share my heart-home with Daisy and to see her going to many of the same places and doing many of the same things that I did when I was a kid.

However, I'm going to try.

There will be a series of "Brit Bits" here on the blog, as and when I get time, maybe occasionally interspersed with other Ranty Panting about this-and-that. I want to do this trip justice in my posts and so I'm not just going to knock them out to get it done.

Day One of your trip, obvy, was the travel. Given Ms. Daisy is two, rambunctious and wilfull (to say the least), and not exactly fond of sitting in one spot for more than 3 seconds - let alone 10 hours (plus car rides to-from the airports) - it was the part none of us were looking forward to.

Personally, I just sorta blocked out all thoughts about the plane ride prior to the trip. I just didn't want to obsess about it or project. It was going to be what it was going to be and we were going either way, so not really any point in getting my knickers in a twist.

So, we started in the airport, amusing ourselves by chatting to other kids and riding the escalator up-and-down from the gate to the causeway.



Then my pics sorta stop, sorry to say. I had all these grand plans to take some cool shots in the airplane but the reality was thus:

1. We got moved from 3 seats by a window to 3 seats in the middle, because the entertainment system was down in our original spots. So, not really a lot to take a pic of, except the back of the seat in front (which seems to be getting closer and closer to the end of my nose with each successive flight.).
2. It was a night flight. Mum and I spent 90% of it trying to get Daisy to sleep and then the other 10% trying to get her to stay asleep.
3. All available carry on space in front of the seat was devoted to Daisy entertainment. My camera bag resided firmly in the overhead bins for the duration of the flight.
4. I was tired.

Regardless, Daisy did remarkably well. Did she like sitting in a plane seat? No, siree! Would she watch movies, wearing a headset? Not a chance. But was she easily occupied with books and constant, devoted attention? Sure.

The one benefit of having been moved to the middle row of seats was that the seat next to us was empty, so we had 4 seats between 3 of us. This meant that Mum and I were able to bookend the row, lift up the arm rest of the seats in the middle, and create a make-shift bed for Daisy (who will not sleep sitting up.) The disadvantage here is that she flails around so much in her sleep that Mum and I spent the entire 3.5 hours she was asleep, trying to stop her from rolling off her seats and into the leg-space between the seats in front of her. Oy!

It's the least amount of sleep I've ever had on a transatlantic flight. I watched no movies and I dozed-off only occasionally (and accidentally) from Daisy duty. However, I was not wrangling a screaming baby.

In summary: It was hard work and tiring but it was not stressful. I'll take that.

Landing at the other end, we had to go pick up the car at Heathrow airport. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, we were all excited to be out of that damn airplane and were ready to zoom down the motorway to Devon, site of many a great British holiday.

Which is when things came to a standstill.

We encountered two day-stopping challenges.

1. The car we had reserved didn't have enough boot (trunk) space for all our luggage.
2. The child car seats they provided proved to be all-but impossible to adjust and fit without assistance and, for liability reasons, the staff wouldn't help you fit it.

This is just one picture from the scene that ensued. Let's just say this is the calm picture. You're missing the ones with the parade of 4 unsuccessful estate (station wagon) cars, the in-and-out of suitcases, the three different car seats, and Hubby's expletives.



The car on the right is one of the first cars we tried. The car, k mini-van, on the left eventually became our "London Car", as Daisy likes to call it.

We must have been there for a good 90 minutes sorting all this out, with tempers flaring, until finally someone agreed to help us, presumably to get the angry and demanding Americans off their back. (No critique, Hubby,  it WAS ridiculous)

But then finally we were on the road for the four hour drive down to Ilfracombe, Devon. (That's right, I said 4. I mean, what's another 4 hours after 10 on a plane!?)

And finally we were able to put Daisy's portable DVD player into service, using the car-jack. Whew on that one! Mickey Mouse, Dora, and A Potty Story, seriously saved our jet-lagged asses.

I was also beginning to feel glad that we made the switch to the mini-van. The extra space in the back was so much appreciated for all of us, after being cooped up in a plane for so long. It also meant that we could manage all the various entertainment items that Ms. Daisy required, without twisting ourselves into pretzels to access them, as we would have in a smaller car.

Unfortunately, it meant more money. Doesn't it always?

We eventually arrived at our destination, just outside of Ilfracombe, Devon, in the early evening.





Which is where this particular chapter ends. Until Brit-Bit Part Two: Trimstone Manor and Ilfracombe.

What a difference a week makes!

Last Thursday I took pictures of the rain (see here)

This Thursday, bright sunshine and new little buds on the trees.

Mother nature has been seriously PMS'ing this year!