Well I came to the realization of what a sucky photographer I am~ I've been searching my photo databases for 5 measly epitomes that could possibly be Point Lobos in order to win this contest. I only found ~1~ that has any resemblance to the Point Lobos that rests on the pedestal that is millions of calenders. That is the square sepia image of a heron taking off from the nest in the pines at sunset so it is a flying silhouette, you know one of my satisfying monthly heron shots. But all the rest suck suck suck and I realize: Do I know Point Lobos at
all? I looked at Deviant Art versions some are okay but clearly digitized too much so that it looks like a Disneyland ride without wax mummies. The others are too boring, and without
drawing it how to I tell the moods of this sacred place? This is the first time I've felt challenged with nature photography like all this time I've been shooting blanks when I go there just because I love it so much but if I had (now 4) more photos to exploit the spirit which it it allows me to see how would I do that knowing what I know about light & my camera and its hidden spiral of compositions??
And so I decided to go by the end of April and just take tons of new ones with this in mind.
Point Lobos is NOT what it seems to be
I LOVE blurry water shots but that is a RARE MOOD for Point Lobos, you know to be peaceful in the way calenders portray it. It's like showing a woman on Cosmopolitan magazine with digitized skin and sturdy boobs, really
It is naturally brutal, with unforgiving wind and cliffs and depths into the bay which makes it so unique in the whole world; the barking seals which gives it its famous name, they suffer miscarriages too and play with their dead babies in the sand, crying at it because it doesn't do what the other proud fat mammas' babies do.
And the deer, they don't care for tourists much, they can't enjoy the sun any more because to get any privacy they must graze at the coldest darkest times of daylight, but they like it that way anyway. Some eggs fall out of nests on windy days and squirrels leave nuts half eaten in pine trees before they loose their furry tails to RV tires, otters have bebies and raise them on their bellies while they float in safe coves tied to kelp thriving on the ocean water itself, and millions of abalone flints in the cliffs and trails mirror pink light after a good rain, from the olden days when they thought abalone was limitless and that was the only way Chinese and Japanese could make a living in a town that for the most part outcast them. The whales who were butchered here still whine sometimes in the water but it goes unheard except to maybe divers and shrimp, and the Ohlone Indians can only shake their ghostly heads at the small portion of the land we nowadays hold dear the way
they once thought of the entire world.How do I show all this in a few pictures. It's not even about the contest anymore, I'm perplexed
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.Last night I dreamed I wanted to see what my past lives were. So I walked. I was in a car, but parked along a winding road that went into bright green foothills, like in Mendocino, pulled over, parked. The road led deeper into taller more emerald mountains. I was bitten by the adventure bug, but I think it was a sign on the side of the road that said, I had to walk the rest of the way, and each step, look at your feet, they will change. And as much as I wanted to stop and bee in the quietest moment I can ever remember, the fog rolling against the mountains, the damp warm air, the eerie quietness I knew I was the only human, animal or bug in sight. It was long and meditative. I walked. I went into a sort of trance, even in my dream, although I interpreted it as going in and out of lucidity, and can't remember the in between parts but I was letting the images of my feet flow. I swear it ws the weirdest thing because of course as conscious was thinking I was in waking life, and look at my feet! They fluctuated in pattern and attire and sexuality and color. The. Strangest. Thing I have dreamed in a while, my feet were knarly and hairy and dirty but felt more comfortable than ever on the dirt road leading into the emerald mountians, they were pointed and maroon-fabriced and not very comfortable, they were sandaled and ancient looking, they were all sorts of things and next what I knew I was coming to a knoll where there was a treehouse without a tree, if that makes any sense. I knew it had ana mazing view so I stopped and went that way~ it was the turn that must have ben my life now, because there were all the usual people. My parents, were hoeing in the garden of all things, in overalls and all, they had never been so happy, and I was relieved I was in a very peaceful time; and I went into the treehouse/cabin and there were people from elementary school and high school and my job now but that only made up about fifteen. There was a celebration I was almost late for! Rosie that was my 2nd bridesmaid that moved to L.A she was lighting candles on a cake. Cory the fun hippie chick I work with now she was there explaining what I missed. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, a round mirror on the wall and I was in a stupid ugly bonnet and apron! I said I have to go up and change! They rolled their eyes and acted just like they knew and were way ahead, and motioned me to go up, which was a homemade ladder into a tiny loft, where there were people fro my past and probably my future since I only recognized a couple. Just from walking up I looked down and saw myself in Ugg boots and a skirt and sweatshirt, much better! Someone exclaimed, "You're HAIR!!" And I felt my hair, and I had these long dreadlocks, they must have been at least three years. I was like oh yeah that, these help me think, or something like that. Someone was getting distracted out the window, so we laid on our bellies together like we were five and watching cartoons but the tv was instad a window with a magnificent view of a green hilly ranch, like it was the last thing before a volcanic Rocky Montain of a range sprung up behind it. It was getting dark but you could tell there was a silver ruck struggling down the ravine and they were watching in suspense. I Shot up and said I have to Go! That's MY TRUCK! and I woke up.
The night before I dreamed, a vivid dream about my sister wanting to ride her new bike along the cliffs of Highway 1. I wanted to photograph her, and it was in slow motion: her pedaling and smiling to the beat of slow music suspended between gleefulness, meditation and a bitterseetness that I had never seen in her face before, she was almost fearless despite the ridiculous cliffs below her. To my happy surprise there were receding clouds behind the mountain range, adn a rainbow appeared, I saw the angle from the asphalt view, and her butt-long hair blowed perfectly behind her like a flag and in awe I watched the rainbow come alive, move like a ribbon throuh the air from behind the Big Sur mountains mimick the flow of her hair, and unite with the tips of her hair. It was amzing. It was so real
I love magic, how to I express these kinds of magic.
Sufjan Stevens has a sexy voice.
All day I could only think, I wish I had my dreadlocks back
energetic
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esoterian's journal
rejuvenated
