Strike Party of One

Tea: Mandarin Green, iced.

Music: Bruce Springsteen, "One Step Up"

Time: Night.

I took down my second photo show tonight. Eight hours to hang the thing, give or take, and it came off the walls in under two hours.

It was a different sort of ending, compared to the first show. That one had to come down early because the venue -- the late, lamented Nighthawks Coffeehouse -- was closing. This one lasted a month longer than I had expected.

Still, there's a part of the night that feels like a wake. I expect to see some of the sold pieces again, but others ... who knows? (I don't sell duplicate prints.)

Oh, well. I learned a lot, met some good people and managed to raise a few bucks for the American Cancer Society. Can't ask for much more than that.

Out of Focus

Tea: White Grapefruit, iced.

Music: Steely Dan, "Peg"

Time: Afternoon.

So I started printing photos for the upcoming Saucy Hound show. Well, I didn't print them. I had them printed.

And as soon as I hit the "send" button, I realized something was wrong. Badly wrong.

Namely, one of the photos I'd chosen wasn't one I would even choose to keep in my portfolio. It has pixel issues, focus issues ... actually, whole subscriptions in both areas.

Good thing I'm not picking everything for the show. It helps to have input, and I'm definitely going to seek that out in the coming days. I know it's my show and all, but another pair of eyes can only help -- especially when mine are so clearly wonky today.

(Make that unclearly wonky. Time for more caffeine ...)

White Rabbit Photograpy, Ltd.

Tea: Chinese Melon Seed

Music: King Crimson, "Starless"

Time: Late evening.

So, in the span of one day I have gone from not knowing when my next photo show would be to the very real prospect of opening two shows in the same month.

Next month, that is.

One opens June 13 at the Saucy Hound in Westport. The other, at Perk Up! in Overland Park, will happen sometime this summer -- possibly as early as the first week in June. That's sixty photos, give or take, to pick and mat and frame.

I'm trying my best to panic. (No, that's not a typo. I didn't say "trying my best not to panic.") Friend/collaborator/undefinable kindred spirit Seánan Forbes tells me I'll be fine.

(She's a photographer, too, you know. She's good. Better than. And we'll have a joint show -- maybe two -- later this year in Weston, Missouri.)

I'll keep you posted on all fronts. In the meantime, plans for shopping for mirrored sunglasses and growing a bad 'stache have been suspended. I'll be at Hobby Lobby, checking for sales on mats and frames.

You'll know me. Just listen for the frantic muttering.

Park It

Tea: White Monkey

Music: Classix Nouveaux, "Guilty"

Time: Night.

I went to Crestview Park, not far from my son's high school, after dropping him off for his drama performance tonight. (I'll see the show on Thursday.)

I shot a few pictures, stayed about 20 minutes ... and saw a grand total of one other person. She, for the record, was walking through.

On the way back to the house, I found Robinson Park -- a tiny plot, a block long and so narrow that not only could you hit a ping-pong ball across it, you might be able to throw it across. (At .27 acres, it's the smallest park with grass in Overland Park.) It's still not the smallest park I've ever seen. That designation goes to a tiny park, the name of which I can't remember, in my hometown. It occupies one point of a three-way intersection and would fit on my lot here with room to spare -- and I don't live on a big lot.

It, too, was empty. At just a little before six on a nice late winter day, with at least half an hour of decent light left, two perfectly good parks were utterly empty.

To those who crave solitude, as I often do, that could be a boon. On the other hand, if parks don't get used, cities -- always looking for sources of cash -- could use that as a reason to sell off the land.

I'm not on a crusade or anything. I look lousy in armor. But I'm going to shoot for spending one hour a week in a park -- a different park each week -- so long as the weather permits. I might be reading, might be writing, might be taking pictures. Who knows?

But I'll be there -- and I hope I'm not the only one.

Framicide Prevention

Tea: Vanilla Lapsang.

Music: Gorillaz, "Clint Eastwood"

Time: Night.

The photo exhibit at Nighthawks Coffeehouse in Mission officially opens Saturday (although the reception's not until Friday the 7th), but I figured I'd get a head start on hanging the show.

My rationale ran thusly: "It's my first show. I have no experience. There will be unexpected setbacks."

There were, several involving broken frames. But thanks to the miracle adhesive Handi-Tak, today was a casualty-free day. I can't say enough good things about the stuff, and I owe a large debt of thanks to Nighthawks regular Virgil for recommending it.

Here's hoping for two more months' worth of the same.

If It's Friday, There Must Be Art

Tea: Chai

Music: Tom Ptacek, "The Joker"

Time: Night.

Friday is when the new art comes out here in Kansas City -- not just First Fridays, but through the month.

Tonight, there was an opening at the Kemper Museum of Contemporary Art. It's a photography show, pieces by Stephen Shore -- and it's fantastic. One of the shots stopped me in my tracks and made me mouth one name: "Hopper."

That's as in "Edward." And that, folks, is high praise.

So yeah, you should go. And while you're there, check out Deb Sokolow's brilliant (and funny) "You Are One Step Closer to Learning the Truth." Give yourself plenty of time. You won't just need it. You'll want it.

Gone Green

Tea: Iced Chocolate Chai

Music: The Producers, "She Sheila"

Time: Night

What is it about the green of aged copper? I've been trying to figure it out. It's more than the color itself -- although that sea-green (yes, that's a Crayola reference) shade does have something to do with it.

(Speaking of Crayola, what *is* burnt umber? I know they don't make that color any more, but it's still bugging me.)

Whatever it is, for me it's always That Green -- capitalized -- and I can't take my eyes off of it.

Could be time for a camera expedition soon. The Great Patina Hunt of 2008, anyone?

Only For a Moment and the Moment's Gone

Tea: Chai

Music: The Jayhawks, "Blue"

Time: Night.

Hied myself to Homer's Coffeehouse in Overland Park today, to get some editing done and spend some of the gift certificate my fourth graders gave me for Christmas.

There was a stray pink glove in the snowy parking lot.

Horrid me, my first thought wasn't, "Oh, some poor person has a cold hand." It was "Oooh. Must take pictures."

So I did. Eight of them, to be exact. Then I went inside, had a mocha and a bagel, and plunged headfirst into words for more than an hour. When I came out, it was warmer and the glove was half-submerged in a puddle.

So, of course, I pulled the camera out again. But something was wrong. No matter how I tried, I kept getting my own reflection in the shot.

I may go back later this week to see things in a different light. Maybe the glove will be there. Maybe it won't. Either way, there'll be no second chance to capture the shot I missed earlier today.

And that's fine. I'd rather take my chances on tricks of light than engineer all the reality out of a photograph. There's something appealing in capturing an image that can never be captured the same way again -- which more than makes up for any angst at missing one.

For me, I suppose, that's the difference between a photograph and a photo illustration. It's an odd sort of parse, I know. Maybe it's because for me, photography is like haiku. There's a moment, briefly captured, that is sure to change -- and some things are more beautiful for being transitory.

A Charlie Brown Day

Tea: White Grapefruit with Honey

Music: Vince Guaraldi Trio, "Linus and Lucy"

Time: Night

My day hasn't been scripted entirely by Charles Schulz, but it's been close.

I did manage to get all but the last four pieces (which still have to be ordered) matted and framed for the photo show in March and April. But along the way, I managed to completely clear a table by accident when I stood up, didn't realize I had somehow become attached to my matting cloth and started to walk away.

Markers and tape littered the floor. At least I'd cleared the glass stuff a minute earlier.

But on the positive side of Charlie Brownhood, I got to do the happy dance once more when friend/collaborator/undefinable kindred spirit Seánan Forbes got her first New York byline, in the Jobs section of the New York Post. Check it out here. (Actually, it's a bit of a gloat dance. I told her she was good enough to get the gig without having to show previous clips, and she was -- and is.)

I just hope the Schulzian day doesnt' carry over into tomorrow. It's supposed to turn cold -- and while this yellow sweater with the zigzag stripe keeps my top half warm, 30-degree weather won't be any fun in these shorts.

Surfacing briefly

Tea: Cherry Chocolate Caramel Vanilla

Music: Various selections for piano and voice

Time: Night.

It's been a long but productive several days here in Weston, Missouri. Good food, lovely people and killer story ideas abound. (And yes, there will be plenty of pictures of rust and bricks and peeling paint. Some things never change, no matter the location.)

Tonight, there was excellent Cajun food at a new restaurant in Leavenworth. Then, back across the Missouri River in Weston, there was an impromptu piano/voice performance by one of the owners of the bed and breakfast that's home for the night. (Given that she's sung with the Kansas City Symphony, that was an extra special treat). And now, there's tea, and soon there will be sleep.

Blessings, all of them. And I'm grateful.

The Center Cannot Hold

Tea: White Grapefruit

Music: Dog's Eye View, "Everything Falls Apart"

Time: Night.

So I've been thinking a lot lately about entropy (yeah, those are my pictures), how natural and artificial order passes to disorder.

Rust, unraveling, fracture, decay ... pleasant thoughts, eh?

(Insert wry chuckle here ...)

But at the same time, there has to be a breakdown from time to time. Fire burns and renews. Rotting leaves fertilize the soil from which their trees grow.

In short: No death, no new life. The kernels of wheat must die for the bread. The skins of the grapes must break for the wine. Deconstruction becomes a sacrament.

And so it goes, and comes back, and goes again.

It's that way in all things. Aspects of life die so that new ones can be born. Careers rise from the ashes of previous jobs. Grief at the end of another's life, fear at the knowledge that one's own life will end -- fuel for art.

So, yes, things fall apart. It happens. But sometimes, we're given the chance to put what's left together in new ways.

Broken or of a Creative Bent?

Tea: Chocolate Cinnamon.

Music: Squeeze, "Up the Junction"

Time: Night.

I've been thinking a great deal lately about the links between creativity and some sort of "offness," as it were.

Edward Hopper, one of my favorite painters, once proclaimed, "I guess I'm not very human. All I really want to do is paint light on the side of a house."

I can relate to that, sometimes. It's easy to hide behind a notebook and/or a camera, and not engage the world as anything but material.

I'm doing my best to strike a balance. But isn't imbalance -- the kind of imbalance that fuels creative tension -- what I'm after, too?

Maybe that's the paradox. Creative sorts have to be human, to understand the range of human emotions, strengths and frailties. But we (at least I hope to be listed on that roster) also have to be able to disengage, to switch to a purely observational mode.

Human, more than, less than.

Is it any wonder that we wonder?

Fond of the Found

Tea: White Grapefruit.

Music: U2, "Stay (Faraway, So Close)"

Time: Night.

People lose things. And when I find them, I take pictures.

Gloves everywhere. A fork in a grocery store parking lot. Yesterday, a chile pepper Christmas ornament on the lawn of the alternative high school.

It's nothing worth a "found" ad in the newspaper. If it were, I'd pick it up and try to find the owner. I just snap a few shots from different angles -- if the surroundings are interesting enough, that is -- and move on.

I've thought about building a collection of the found objects, for several reasons (and yes, one of them is that it would be sort of cool to exhibit a photograph next to the object itself). But I never have.

There's enough at my house already (various rubber ducks, interesting stones, animal figurines, etc.) to keep archaeologists busy for years if, say, Yellowstone blew up tomorrow and deposited a few yards of ash over the whole thing.

And besides, someone else might come wandering along, camera or sketch pad in hand, and see something entirely different in the same object.

So if you hurry, I'm pretty sure that Christmas ornament's still there.

Whew.

Tea: Pu Ehr Poe.

Music: Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds, "Hiding All Away"

Time: Night.

We interrupt our regularly unscheduled panic to bring you this important bulletin:

The photo show is back to its original date, March 1-April 30 at Nighthawks Coffeehouse in Mission, Kan. And boy, am I relieved.

While there was a certain adrenalin rush to trying to get everything pulled together by this Friday, I wouldn't have been able to do it right. I couldn't have promoted it decently, that's for sure.

Life lesson? Sometimes going for the Big Thing quickly can be a lot of fun -- but it takes a lot of little things, done over time, to make the Big Thing work.

Out of the Silent Steeper

Tea: Candy Apple

Music: King Crimson, "Indiscipline"

Time: Afternoon.

Hi, kids.

Yeah, I've been gone for a while. No 'Net access in southwest Kansas (I mean, they have 'Net access there. I just didn't have any myself) and a huge jumble of blargh since I got back.

No excuses, though. I've been slacking.

So ... first, to tea. The Candy Apple tea is part of a parcel that friend/colleague/undefinable kindred spirit Seánan Forbes sent to me. (More tins of tea! The rest of the family uses the same words, but with a question mark and different inflection: "MORE tins of tea?")

I'm going to be needing a lot of caffeination in the coming days, though. Remember the camera Seánan sent me? Um, yeah ... I've been taking a lot of pictures with it. A ... lot ... of ... pictures.

Last month, the owner of Nighthawks Coffeehouse was kind enough to offer me a show. The middle room, March and April. Plenty of time to get ready, right?

Enter the monkey wrench. The room opened up when the scheduled artist ... well, vanished. Brian -- said kind owner -- asked if I could get something up by next week. So, I'm getting something up by next week.

It'll come together. As it does, I'll thank Seánan with every sip of steeped fuel -- and when it does, I'll thank her again for the camera and the impetus to start shooting again.

The Art of Tea Trading

Tea: Chocolate Cherry

Music: Lara Supan, "Be Here to Love Me"

Time: Afternoon.

It's icy but not iced over, if that makes sense, so I got out for a photowalk late this morning. When I got in, I brewed a cup of the chocolate cherry tea -- a hand blend from friend/collaborator/undefinable kindred spirit Seánan Forbes -- and began editing images.

My youngest, who loves hot tea (and has high regard for Seánan, who spirited her away to New York for a sleepover at the American Museum of Natural History), came in to watch. She saw the tea.

"I'll say nice things about your art if you give me that tea," she said. (It's a small packet, perhaps three brewings' worth.)

"I've already started it," I said.

"So give me the rest of it."

"I'll give you one cup."

"Give me half and I'll say something nice about one of your pictures."

"Fine," I said.

"I like that one," she said, pointing at the screen. Then she walked out.

So, yeah, I gave up tea for approval. I know what that says about me. I'm okay with that.

I just wish I could remember which piece she said she liked ...

I Spy with My Unblocked Eye ...

(Image Copyright 2007 Steve Brisendine)

Tea: Lapsang Souchong

Music: Waterboys, "The Whole of the Moon"

Time: Night.

Okay, let's see if this works.

I mentioned photography and a certain purple leaf a couple of days ago, but I didn't give the backstory on how I came to be out on photo walks in the first place.

Friend/co-writer/undefinable kindred spirit Seánan Forbes gave me a digital camera some time back. I confess, it was a long time before I unlimbered it in earnest. A snap here, a snap there. Nothing serious.

Part of it was that I used to have a fairly decent photographer's eye, back when I had to do a lot of shooting for work. (My hometown newspaper had one fulltime shutterbug, at best.) But I'd lost it over the years, for whatever reasons, and couldn't seem to get it back.

I took photos, but the composition was off. Or the image was just enough out of focus to be annoying but not enough to be "artistic." Everything that couldn't work ... didn't.

Still, I took the camera to New York when I visited last month. And something, pardon the expression, clicked.

And, knock on a whole forest, it's still clicking -- but the eye is seeing things it's never seen before.

Found patterns, curves, lines -- they're everywhere. And so while most sane people walk along the street looking at whole things, I'm the one looking for just the right angle and framing for a smear of easement paint or a rusty manhole cover (one on the other, if I'm really lucky).

I haven't lost sight of entireties entirely, but -- well, the Picture at the Top of This Post (sorry, it just makes me think of "The Monster At the End of This Book") is the sort of thing that's been finding its way onto my hard drive of late.

So I guess this is my first public showing, as it were. Hope you like it. And please don't run over me when I'm standing in the middle of the street (because sometimes, that's where the most interesting tar squiggles are).

Not Turning Over an Old Leaf

Tea: Cherry Vanilla.

Music: Eric Johnson, "Cliffs of Dover"

Time: Night.

Took the digital camera out for a photo walk today. There's a construction project going on about a mile from the house -- lots of cool lines to be photographed, with all those concrete culverts waiting to go below ground.

Plus, there's a ton of new easement paint on the streets and it's fall, so lots of good dead leaves are just lying around waiting to be photographed -- like the one I saw on the sidewalk alongside Nall, about halfway through the walk.

It was face down when I first saw it -- almost gray, with dark pink veins. Then the wind flipped it over, and it was purple. There weren't any others around like it.

The wind flipped it back to gray-and-pink. I took a few pictures of that side, then waited to see the purple side again. My rules, you see, don't allow me to arrange anything. I had to wait for it to turn over again -- and it wouldn't, for five minutes.

I sat and watched. I wandered to the end of the block to get a few snaps of a likely-looking surveying stake. Still no luck. (Did I mention it was cold today?)

Finally, the wind caught the leaf just right, and onto its back it went. And there, once again, was that glorious purple.

I took nearly a dozen shots in all, from both sides. Tonight, I popped the memory card into the computer, feeling like a kid about to tear into a Christmas parcel.

And you know what? Only one of those blessed shots came out -- the smallest of the purple-side pieces. All the rest had focus issues. Two had entire focus subscriptions.

I'll never get another chance to photograph that leaf. By now, it's blown away or trampled or ... or ... or.

I could be upset about that. Or I could be glad for the ten minutes or so I had with that leaf, its lines and patterns and colors.

It was a brief love, but it won't be forgotten.