Thursday, February 10, 2005

Not taking pictures really fucks me up. Not writing is bad too, but the photos are an irreplaceable high. It's a reward, a miracle, a feat when something comes out better-than-expected, especially when your expectations are high as hell. So here's some stuff.

I thought of Sophie when I took this one. You know, because of her ferocity.

In which our heroine discovers the best light in her apartment -- it's the bathroom and it's reflecty walls.

Not doing the dishes sometimes results in good things. Really. I think I have about a dozen shots of these almost ethereal lines of starch clinging to my (christmas gift/totally sweet) saucepan. It reminds me of engraving.

Over winter break, my dad and I staked out the birdfeeders outside his bedroom window and had a couple long photo sessions. He has some BEAUTIFUL close-ups of nuthatches, black-capped chickadees and bohemian waxwings -- his little zappy camera has about twice the zoom as my clunker. But I love my clunker because I have more control than those zippity doo-dahs. So there. Anyway, this is a pair of feasting redpoles.

This fellow (Bohemian waxwing) knew I was taking his picture. I mean, look at him.

he's totally midcomplaint. Probably going off on the magpies.

Cropped severely, but otherwise undoctored. All of these were, for that matter.

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