Something for Thursday

You may remember the improv comedy show Whose Line Is It Anyway, which has had several incarnations over the years…including the original, which was a BBC production. Here’s a clip that I’ve always liked. The second guy’s reaction to the tempo his improv song is set always makes me laugh.

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Let’s close out a few tabs!

::  I tossed out a random thought, and Roger took that thought and ran with it!

::  I don’t know what it is, but I am always fascinated by people who try to befriend the wildlife, to disastrous results.

::  One of two articles on NYC Mayoral candidate Zohran Mamdani: The attacks on Zohran Mamdani show that we need a new understanding of antisemitism, and Debunking all the BS about Zohran Mamdani

::  Buffalo’s One Billion Dollar Cautionary Tale for Baltimore’s Highway to Nowhere. This has been a very frustrating story to watch unfold. Buffalo’s Kensington Expressway, NY33, is a four-lane expressway that connects downtown to the airport, several miles away. But to build it, they pretty much completely destroyed a wide and beautiful parkway that just happened to pass through a predominantly Black neighborhood. The resulting speeding traffic has made the area one of the least healthy sections of the city. Several years ago the NYS DOT came up with a plan: to restore the old wide boulevard not by filling in the expressway and getting rid of it–something done in a number of cities successfully, including Rochester–but by putting a literal roof on the expressway, turning it into a tunnel. The whole thing was absurd.

::  I might have linked this before, but the tab is still open, so here it is: the sad fate of the Ontario Science Centre, a once glorious museum that fell on hard times and then got pretty well screwed by the Ontario government, which from my point of view, sucks.

::  Finally, a depressing read, but a necessary one: The US Constitution has failed. I tend to think along the same lines, though I do question the framing. America’s precarious position is because American citizens, through action or inaction, have largely chosen to put Americans there. The Constitution is not some mechanism that operates independently of the citizenry, and I truly believe things don’t start getting better until Americans realize and recognize their role in the fact that things are as bad as they are.

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Tuesday Tones

Continuing our look back at the classical music of one hundred years ago, we have a work for solo piano that was written in 1925. Henry Cowell lived from 1897 to 1965, and he was a largely self-taught composer and performer who found himself heavily in the avant-garde school. It’s a roughly five-minute piece in which the pianist never touches the keyboard. Instead, the performer reaches into the string chamber and manipulates the strings directly through various means: brushing the hand over them, plucking them, and dragging the nails of a finger along them. The effect is otherworldly and haunting; it almost sounds like the kind of atmospheric soundscape-type music that is often heard during old science fiction movies and horror movies of all eras. Here is a good post with more information on this eerie, haunting work.

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A metaphor

In the “Sometimes we laugh to keep from crying” department, a snippet from Friends that seems to me sadly applicable. Joey’s refrigerator has given up the ghost, and his solution was…this.

Happy birthday, America. I guess.

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Something for Thursday

In times like this I often turn to optimistic art that reminds me that the world doesn’t have to be the way it is, and that it won’t always be like this.

In that spirit, here is “Another Day of Sun”, the opening number from La La Land.

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Light is active.

There’s a small visual memory that I’ve been carrying around for years, in my head. I have thought that it would turn up someday in a story I wrote, and who knows, maybe it still might…but right now it’s relevant to my photography journey. It has to do with light and the things it does.

It may have been close to twenty years ago, maybe more, but I was driving on Union Road in Cheektowaga, NY, maybe on my way to the Walden Galleria or the Borders Bookstore there (before it eventually closed, obviously). It was a warm summer day, and while I was driving, one of those quick in-and-out thunderstorms rolled through. You know the type, the ones that announce themselves with a sudden darkening of the skies, some lightning and thunder, and with a few big fat drops coming down before the skies open up. And the storm is over as quickly as it came; ten minutes or so of rain, another five or ten minutes of slackening and clearing, and then the sun is back out and you’re looking at the back of the storm clouds as they depart.

And everything now is wet. The whole world, it seems, has been momentarily soaked.

That was the case as I was driving that day. Storm barrels through and leaves, and the sun comes back out and everything is soaked.

But after such a storm, everything also has been suddenly cleaned and made shiny again, and the pavement itself is gleaming and shiny with the brilliant post-rain light. And on this particular day, as I drove up Union Rd. behind some other guy, I saw something amazing that I’ve never seen since: because the car in front of me was kicking up spray from the water still on the street, and because the bright afternoon sun was shining through that spray, that sunlight was getting broken up into a spectrum. Two tiny spectrums, that is–one for each tire.

Put another way: it was like the car in front of me was driving on rainbows.

I had never seen that before. I had never seen light do that before.

And I’ve never forgotten that. I thought it was a detail I’d save for use in a story someday. I never thought it was a lesson my brain was filing away for when I’d find myself in a place where recognizing light as an active force would be desirable.

One constant recommendation I see in photography content aimed at beginners and novices is to shoot at “Golden Hour”: the hour or so surrounding sunrise and sunset, when the light is bright and golden and rich and amazing. And yes, this is great advice. Everybody should shoot at Golden Hour when they can. (That last, “when they can”, is something I’ll need to address another time.)

There’s another time when I think the light is frankly astonishing, and that’s right after one of those rainstorms. Maybe you won’t see rainbows under the wheels of the car in front of you, but you’ll see amazing gleaming and reflections that you won’t see any other time. You’ll see color that’s somehow cleaner, more perfect, than at just about any other time. You’ll see light doing things that you won’t see any other time.

Last week I was on the roof at work. I’m required to go up there a few times a month to check things out, verify that there is no existing damage to the roof membrane, check the functioning of rooftop-mounted HVAC systems and exhaust fans, stuff like that. Well, while I was up there, on a sunny day, one of those ten-minute storms raged through. I just hung out in one of the machine houses while it went on by, dumping water on everything, and then sure as anything, the sun was back out. I continued my walk, eventually moving along the part of the roof at the front of The Store, the part that overlooks the parking lot.

What I saw amazed me, so I pulled out my phone and took a quick shot and did a quick edit in Snapseed.

It wasn’t just the way that the sun was gleaming off the cars that had been suddenly washed by rain to a high shine. It wasn’t just the way the colors of those cars popped as if they had been painted by some master. It wasn’t just the way those gleaming surfaces reflected off the wet pavement.

It was all of that, at once.

We often think of “the light” as a passive thing, but no…in this moment the light was active. It was dancing in the clean air after the storm. And I saw it.

So I guess that was the lesson from all those years ago: not that I had seen something that might be useful in a story or an essay, but that I had seen that light doesn’t just shine. It dances and bobs and weaves and flits and does all that kind of Carl Sandburg stuff.

Not a bad lesson for a photographer to receive, huh?

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Tuesday Tones

I was trying to come up with a theme for this month’s Tuesday selections, since themed groupings are fun and this month is good because it has five Tuesdays instead of the usual four. (Actually, come to think of it, I’m not sure if it’s more frequent for a month to have four Tuesdays or five….) So, what we’re going to do is look back one hundred years! Every Tuesday Tones work this month is a piece that premiered in 1925. We’re basically looking at where classical music was a century ago.

We’ll start with a piece I actually featured a year ago! But it’s a good piece, and I have no problem featuring good works more than once, so let’s listen again to Manuel de Falla’s wonderfully sensual, exotic, and fiery ballet El amor brujo. The ballet tells the story of a woman who is haunted by her dead husband’s ghost as she goes to marry another, and it really is one of the few outright sexual works of classical music that I know. I always have difficulty when people describe specific works as “sexy” or “sexual”; most times I just can’t hear it in that music, which inevitably leaves me to wondering if I’m not…well look, you know what I’m getting at. Ravel’s Bolero is often mentioned as a sexual and erotic work, and yet every time I hear it, I want to ask the people citing that one just how boring their sex lives really are.

But I digress. Let’s get to the music. This ballet is by turns energetic, gorgeous, moving, exciting, and downright sensual. I love this aspect of the music of a century ago.

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How can you tell if a dog is enjoying her life?

Oh, she’ll make it clear.

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Something for Thursday (IMF edition)

If not for Monty Norman and John Barry’s work on the James Bond Theme, the most famous theme for an action-packed spy series would almost certainly be Lalo Schifrin’s theme to Mission: Impossible.

Schifrin passed away today at the age of 93. He was one of the bigger names in film music, and he had a long and distinguished career composing for film. His voice will endure, though. It absolutely will endure.

Here is Mr. Schifrin himself, leading a performance of what might be his most famous work. I honestly had no idea he was this good a pianist!

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Dave and Twiggy

According to the signs at the Botanical Gardens two Saturdays ago, those are the names of the persons who were getting married at a ceremony at the Gardens while we were there. Sure enough, as we arrived in one of the rooms bordering the courtyard, there was the wedding, just finishing up. How did I know they were just finishing up? Because we arrived in this room as “Ladies and gentlemen, I now present Mr. and Mrs. ____”, at which point the groom kissed the bride.

I, of course, armed with Miranda, saw a good opportunity for framing up a good shot.

A minute later I was at the other end of the room (the Orchids and Tropical Plants room), and our newlyweds did their recessional, which meant that they were walking toward me in the room, and when they reached the back of the courtyard, they paused for another kiss…which gave me another opportunity to frame them up:

Truth be told, I like the second one better than the first. They’re not partially obscured by their guests in their seats, and I was able to use the string lights inside to offer a bit of added symmetry.

I’ve noticed, as I practice photography, that I really like framing. I’m always on the lookout for good opportunities for framing, and the windows at the Botanical Gardens, with their old weathered glass and wood, offer up really nice opportunities for framing. I’m mildly amazed that Dave and Twiggy’s paid photographers weren’t inside getting good framed shots of their own. What were they thinking! Amateurs!

(I’m kidding there, by the way. I’m sure those photographers are professionals who know way more about wedding photography than I do.)

Anyway, congratulations to the happy couple, and thanks for providing a novice photographer a nice opportunity for practice!

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