Lens Zen! Razzle Dazzle
Colahhhh! Colaahhhhh! Colaaahhhhhrrr!
A friend of mine called me a “colorist.” I’ve been called worse. We were talking about Van Gogh whose work and sensibilities were transformed in the 1880s by his fascination with color. “Colour expresses something in itself,” wrote Vincent in a letter to his brother, Theo. “One can’t do without it; one must make use of it. What looks beautiful, really beautiful—is also right.” My friend teasingly accused me of stuffing my photographs with color. He’s right. I cannot resist the color call. When I see a patch of gold, a frenzy of pink, a block of red or bright green, I am tractorbeamed toward whatever it is. Nine times out of ten, it’s something worth capturing, to me at least.
Fall is one of the year’s last light shows before the fallow season sets in, before the landscape becomes a rolling pen and ink sketch. I can’t help but camel up these brilliant, delicious, decadent hues and hoard them for the coming months. A little visual sustenance, a few mementos for the soul.
Oh that first photo! What a composition! The line of houses at the very bottom and all that fiery display of nature exploding above and behind. It is utterly fresh and new, Sheila. And that little pristine white house seems to tilt ever so slightly, almost floating, teetering on the higher ground.
Michigan has a beautiful autumn but nothing quite like this. Gorgeous photos!