"Pay attention to the world." -- Susan Sontag
 

Glow-in-the-Dark Mums and Daisies (3 of 3)

From “Subject and Master: Figurative Art” in The Joy of Art: How to Look At, Appreciate, and Talk about Art by Carolyn Schlam:

“Pictures tell a story in their own inimitable way. If a thought or idea was totally understandable in words, we would not need pictures, but the truth is that we depend on our eyes to gather much information and to appreciate the world we live in and that artists imagine for us.

“We now greatly depend on still photographs and moving images (i.e. film) to fill us in on visual matters. As a result, we do not have the dependency on drawings and paintings to describe what we actually see, a function it performed for centuries. Portraiture, in particular, provided a record of what people actually looked like, and was not only prized, but was an almost essential service….

“A Dutch figurative artist, [Johannes] Vermeer’s world is a small and very meticulous one. His scenes are set in two of the rooms in his Delft house, and much has been speculated about optical devices he may have utilized in the creation of his amazingly masterful work.

“In addition to his careful drawing, he is known for his beautiful application of paint. He used an extensive and expensive palette of pigments including ultramarine blue, not common in the seventeenth century. He built the color with reflected tones from adjacent hues.

“[The] very well-known
Girl with a Pearl Earring is an example of his extraordinary sensitivity, soft color, and expressive quality. No Impressionist would give you that black background, but it is so beautiful here as it sets off the sweet light on her face and costume.

“Only a small sampling of Vermeer’s exquisite paintings are known, but his attention to detail is esteemed worldwide. He was a unique voice in portrait painting, never imitated and probably never surpassed.”

From “Head of a Young Girl: Vermeer” in The Eye that Desires to Look Upward: Poems by Steven Cramer:

How long it must have taken to arrange
her knotted turban, the exact slope of her shoulder,
her face adrift in a vacuum of black space;
and that startled look, as if I’d just touched her
lightly, teasingly, on the nape of her neck,
and then, too late, realized my mistake.
Her eyes round out like the red mound
of her lower lip; her face circles toward me
and away…

This morning I write to you
about a face I’ve loved from afar too long,
when all the time it’s the black background
I care for and stare at, while she stares back,
as if to bid me walk with her, into the dark,
into whatever she grows out of and returns to;
and isn’t this the way I look at you —
no more than a yard of air between us,
across the inevitable space between people
learning to face what they want?


Hello!

This is the third of three posts where I took some of my recent photographs of chrysanthemums and daisies, and “painted” their backgrounds black. The first post — with a description of my workflow for creating images like this and some chatter about Paint-by-Number and Velvet Painting — is Glow-in-the-Dark Mums and Daisies (1 of 3) and the second post is Glow-in-the-Dark Mums and Daisies (2 of 3).

The poem “Head of a Young Girl: Vermeer” above is about the famous Johannes Vermeer painting Girl with a Pearl Earring (c. 1665). This type of poem, I have learned, is called an ekphrastic poem — after ekphrasis, an act of engaging with one art form using another. This engagement is usually a vibrant, rhetorical dialogue between two art forms, a distinction made to differentiate ekphrasis from an ordinary text description of, say, a painting or a photograph.

The two stanzas I excerpted above are part of a much longer poem — seven stanzas about the same length as those above — and the poet, Steven Cramer, alternates seamlessly between describing the Vermeer painting and writing about the girl in the pearl earring as if she exists in his version of the real world. At one point, he “encounters” her in a bookstore, as an image on a card, staring at him — so he buys the card. I thought all this was an interesting way to observe a piece of art, about which we can create a complex description but can’t quite possess, even in its commercialized form as a copy of a famous painting on a postcard.

The Wikipedia page for ekphrasis includes other examples of ekphrastic poetry, along with examples of music intended to reflect painted scenes. A slight twist on this might be paintings of musical rehearsals or performances — such as those of Vermeer and his contemporaries — that you can see here: Vermeer and Music: The Art of Love and Leisure.

Vermeer’s painting The Music Lesson is among those featured on that page, and that painting is often included in analyses of Vermeer’s probable use of a camera obscura and mirrors to project scenes he was going to paint on a canvas. The Music Lesson shows several characteristics of the potential use of a camera, even an early one, such as the double shadows behind the painting hanging on the wall above the performer and those beneath the harpsichord, as well as how the ceiling and walls aren’t precisely perpendicular, exhibiting the barrel distortion (or slight bowing) that is common even with modern wide-angle lenses.

If these subjects interest you, Traces of Vermeer by Jane Jelley is a very fine book that explains the use of camera technology by Vermeer and other artists at the time, and includes images of nearly all of Vermeer’s paintings.

Thanks for reading and taking a look!










Glow-in-the-Dark Mums and Daisies (2 of 3)

From “Why Photograph Flowers” in Photographing Flowers by Harold Davis:

“[Flowers] are a subject that photographers at all skill levels want to shoot…. Where else can you find such a riotous display of colors and shapes contained in such a small package? Every flower is different. I like to photograph flowers for:

– The grace they bring the world;

– The wildness that is contained in the heart of every flower no matter how showy or domesticated it is;

– The realism, clarity, and bravery with which flowers confront the mystery of their brief lives.

“And, okay, flowers are simply beautiful. In fact, flowers live for beauty. As a species, they make their living by seeming attractive — to their pollinators, and to us humans because symbiotically we help them spread far and wide.

“Mostly, flowers aren’t practical. We help them grow for their beauty and poetry. How can we not want to capture this ephemeral and bold stand against entropy and the chaos of the universe?”

From “Golden Thoughts Against a Black Background” in New Poems by Tadeusz Rozewicz:

since awakening
I’ve been having black thoughts

black thoughts?

try perhaps to describe
their form their substance

how do you know they’re black

maybe they’re square
or red
or golden

that’s it!

golden thoughts….


Hello!

This is the second of three posts where I took some of my recent photographs of chrysanthemums and daisies, and “painted” their backgrounds black. The first post — with a description of my workflow for creating images like this — is Glow-in-the-Dark Mums and Daisies (1 of 3).

Thanks for taking a look!










Glow-in-the-Dark Mums and Daisies (1 of 3)

From “Pitch Black” in The Secret Lives of Color by Kassia St. Clair:

“Pitch black is the most fearsome kind of darkness. For humans, fear of it, perhaps lingering from the days before we could reliably make fire, is universal and ancient. In the dark we become acutely aware of our limitations as a species: our senses of smell and hearing are too blunt to be of much use in navigating the world, our bodies are soft, and we cannot outpace predators. Without sight, we are vulnerable. Our terror is so visceral we are wont to see nighttime as pitch black, even when it isn’t. Thanks to the moon, the stars, and, more recently, fire and electricity, nights so dark that we cannot see anything are rare, and we know that, sooner or later, the sun will rise again…. Perhaps this is why we experience night, figuratively at least, as more than just an absence of light….

“The most eloquent expression of humanity’s fear of pitch black is also one of the oldest. It comes from the Book of the Dead, the Egyptian funerary text used for about 1,500 years until around 50 B.C. Finding himself in the underworld, Osiris, the scribe Ani, describes it thus:

“‘What manner [of land] is this into which I have come? It hath not water, it hath not air; it is deep, unfathomable, it is black as the blackest night, and men wander helplessly therein.'”

From “Portrait of the Artist” in Eleven Days Before Spring: Poems by JoEllen Kwiatek:

The blonde moon grows whiter
as it rises in the spring sky
which is delicate as a watercolor.
Spring is late this year.
I notice the first leaves growing
in curly on the shorn branches poised
as sprigs. For a while, they garnish
the moon. For a while, the difference
between foreground and background is
most obvious as that between the dark
loaded hills and faint sky. I love
the moment of contrast —

though it’s hard to achieve….


Hello!

I haven’t done a photos-on-black-background series in a while, so I decided to pick a few of the chrysanthemum and daisy photos I’ve been posting since late 2024 and do just that. It had been long enough since I’d done this work that it took me a minute to remember how to get results that I like. Once “muscle-memory” took over, however, I got a little carried away (as one does!) and ended up picking 68 photos (to split among three posts) for black-background treatment. Given that February was a lousy winter-weather month here in the Southeast — many million raindrops, much wind, and extremely small temperatures — staying warm and dry at my desk with my canine assistant snoozing at my feet seemed like a good way to spend my time.

I originally took all these mum and daisy photos during several trips to Oakland Cemetery on cloudy days that were bright enough to enhance the colors and textures of these flowers without creating any harsh shadows — making them ideal for black-backgrounding. On black, the original colors — which I didn’t enhance for these variations — appear to be more luminous or phosphorescent, like, you know, things that glow in the dark. In some cases, I kept stems and leaves in the final image, something that worked when they were as well-focused as the flowers and their colors were as luminous as those of the flowers.

Here’s the full-color version of one of the photos I previously posted, whose black-background rendering is one of my favorites in this series:

To convert this to a photo with a black background, Lightroom has several tools I can pick from to select the subject, background, or individual objects in the image. Sounds great; and you might think that using the background selection tool here would recognize that all the stones are behind the plants, and the rest is in the foreground (or is the subject). But the application doesn’t think like you do, and has its own magical mystery for deciding which parts constitute the background, probably based on slight differences in focus or contrast at the pixel level that our eyes may not register. So when I ask Lightroom to select the background, here’s what it chooses…

… as indicated by the fluorescent green overlay that covers the stones but also covers some of the flower petals and leaves. If I simply convert that to black, I end up with something that, shall we say, doesn’t meet my artistic needs:

One of the steps in this workflow, then — the one that takes the most time — is to carefully mouse-erase any part of the mask that covers something I want to show in the photo. I’m not complaining, mind you — there’s something both relaxing and immersive about “un-painting” parts of these photographs to gradually reveal what I want — but having done so many of these over the years, I find it interesting that the human and the computer can’t get a little closer to each other in identifying the subject (or background) of an image.

Here you can follow the transition from background selection, to converting the background to black, then to the final image after I expose additional flower petals and the stems and leaves leading to the upper right corner. To get that result means erasing black from nearly every flower petal, leaf, and stem in the photo. Patience is a virtue here, but the final result is usually worth the effort.

It’s been about five years since the first time I tried to create these images on black backgrounds — which isn’t to suggest it’s some discovery of mine, just that I had to discover it for myself. I also had to learn how I wanted the images to end out, given that it’s easy to use several Lightroom or Photoshop tools to create blended dark backgrounds that aren’t necessarily pure black. I aim for consistently pure black for the backgrounds — a result that isn’t possible to achieve naturally. While you might be able to simulate a black background with clever placement of studio lighting or with flash photography, those techniques are likely to produce gradations of black or include reflected color from the subject onto the black sections of the photographs.


While working on this batch of photos, I suddenly remembered “Paint by Number” kits I had as a kid. I don’t know if anyone does these today, but Paint by Number was popular during the 1960s and 1970s. Each kit consisted of oil paints, brushes, and a canvas or thick cardboard printed with a numbered outline of the subject you were painting. The oil paints in the kit were numbered to match the outline — so you could pick the right color and create your own (alleged) masterpiece.

There was a variation of Paint by Number — called “Velvet Painting” — where the canvas or cardboard was covered with a stretched black velvet cloth… so you could create, for example, a painting of flowers on a black background. You had to be very patient with your brushwork, however, because the textured surface of the velvet could cause colors to bleed into each other or leave your subject with rough edges. Maybe that’s where I learned to be patient with my Lightroom work, but it was also an early visual experience that showed me what happens to our color perception when we isolate the subject of an image on a black background.

The more things change….

Thanks for reading and taking a look!












Mums in Yellow, Orange, and Gold (3 of 3)

From “An Impression of Chrysanthemums” in Chrysanthemum (Botanical) by Twigs Way:

“One of several Japanese exhibitions of the early nineteenth century, [the ‘Japan-British Exhibition’ of 1910] was driven by Japan’s desire to improve public relations and encourage tourism following the renewal of the Anglo-Japanese Alliance. Based at White City in London, it was the largest foreign exposition that the empire of Japan had ever participated in and lasted over five months. There were more than 2,000 exhibitors of arts, crafts and technology housed alongside two large Japanese gardens complete with tea tents where the famous tea ceremony was enacted….

“These gardens were designed as authentic Japanese gardens rather than the hybrid Anglo-Japanese style that had already infiltrated both England and France, and they were constructed from scratch at the exhibition site. Trees, shrubs, wooden buildings, bridges, and even stones, were brought in from Japan as well as the actual designers and gardeners. The two gardens were named the Garden of the Floating Isle (replete with Japanese tea-house) and the Garden of Peace. Although not rich in flowers, instead focusing on the ‘architectural’ elements and layout of a traditional Japanese garden, they gave further impetus to quasi-Japanese gardens and planting in England….

“Visited by 8 million people between 14 May and 29 October, they gave a boost to the popularity of plants such as the orchid, bamboo and chrysanthemum, all of which began to appear in even the most ‘popular’ of gardening books. In 1911 the Chokushi-Mon (Gateway of the Imperial Messenger) from the exhibition was moved to Kew Gardens, where its stylized flower and animal carving can still be seen, including of course the chrysanthemum emblem.”

From “The Old Tea Master of Kyoto” by Antoinette Rotan Peterson in Lotus and Chrysanthemum: An Anthology of Chinese and Japanese Poetry, selected and edited by Joseph Lewis French:

Our race has given to the world
A matchless art in all things small.
This lacquered box with dragonflies impearled
And gold chrysanthemums against a wall
Of silvery rocks where runs a quail to cover
Upon a ground of purest cinnabar,
Shall we not rightly reverence it
And make our conversation fit
The artist’s great achievement over
A strange intractable material,
The ceremonial tea occasion gives
For studious contemplation of the arts
And never bidden guest departs
But feels anew that Beauty lives
With power to lift man’s hearts….


Hello!

This is the last of three posts featuring photographs of late-2024 mums from Oakland Cemetery’s gardens showing off their yellow, orange, and gold colors. The first post is Mums in Yellow, Orange, and Gold (1 of 3) and the second post is Mums in Yellow, Orange, and Gold (2 of 3).

Thanks for taking a look!








Mums in Yellow, Orange, and Gold (2 of 3)

From “In Peace and War” in Chrysanthemum (Botanical) by Twigs Way:

“The first mention of chrysanthemums being exhibited in America is in the rather unglamorous periodical the New England Farmer of 26 November 1830. This gave a report of chrysanthemums being shown at the Massachusetts Horticultural Society on 20 November of that year, including some well-known ‘English’ varieties including ‘Tasseled White’, ‘Park’s Small Yellow’, ‘Quilled Lilac’, ‘Quilled White’ and ‘Golden Lotus’….

“The cultivar namings indicate that the origin of the chrysanthemum infiltration was most likely England and not direct from China or Japan or via the continent. An American catalogue of 1857 refers to the ‘magnificent seminal varieties’ latterly produced in Europe (thanks to the special trading relationship with Japan and China) and goes on to indicate that chrysanthemums were now filling the gardens of the middle and southern states, where they supplied ‘one of the principal adornments by an ever-varying display of beauty during the autumnal period when most other plants present us only [with] the remains of departed verdure’….

“Names of varieties available by 1857 indicate an influx of European varieties by this period alongside the original English colonists; these varieties included ‘Duchess d’Abrantes’, ‘Grand Napoleon’, ‘Guillaume Tell’, ‘General Lafont de Villiers’ and ‘La Superba’, alongside the English ‘Annie Salter’, ‘Annie Henderson’ and the ‘Cloth of Gold’ (a suitably fine yellow colour)….”

From “Soothsayer” by Mary Ursula Bethell in An Anthology of Twentieth-Century New Zealand Poetry, selected by Vincent O’Sullivan:

I walked about the garden in the evening,
And thought: How Autumn lingers —
Still a few gold chrysanthemums —
Still one late rose —
The old blackbird still has voice.

I walked back down the pathway,
The evening light lay gently on the orchard;
Then I saw a redness on the peach boughs,
And bulb-spears pushing upwards,

And heard the old blackbird whistle —
‘Get ready. Get ready. Get ready.
Quick. Quick. Spring.’


Hello!

This is the second of three posts featuring photographs of mums I took at Oakland Cemetery’s gardens whose colors include shades of yellow, orange, and gold. The first post is Mums in Yellow, Orange, and Gold (1 of 3).

In the quotation at the top of this post, I added search-links for each of the flower variants mentioned by the author, many from the horticultural journal New England Farmer, which began publishing in the early 19th century. The number of images varies quite a bit (possibly some of the names are no longer commonly used), but many of the flowers by those unusual names are quite fetching. I especially liked Quilled Lilac and Quilled White with their lacy flower petals — two plants I’ve never seen before but would surely like to encounter somewhere.

Thanks for taking a look!