Photographic Fascination

Lov­ing My Lensbaby

Over the past month or two, I have been forc­ing myself to expand my cre­ative eye by using my new Lens­baby Muse. I bought the Lens­baby 3G sev­eral years ago, and I found it to be fairly dif­fi­cult to ‘fum­ble’ with. I like the spon­tanaity of the Muse com­pared to the 3G. How­ever, I could never really get used to the 3G con­trols, and I always felt awk­ward using it. Plus, it looks as if Sput­nik has landed on your cam­era. Haha. So, one day I was brows­ing through the Lens­baby web­site, com­par­ing their lat­est offer­ing of lenses, and I was impressed with the Muse. The con­trols are sim­ple– you just bend to adjust the sweet spot, and squeeze to focus. I also like the optic swap sys­tem which is an option with the new lenses. I decided to buy the single-glass optic, and the plas­tic optic at the same time that I bought the Muse.

I absolutely love the plas­tic optic! The result­ing pho­tographs taken with it look very soft and glow­ing with a good amount of chro­matic aber­ra­tion– although I pre­fer to con­vert most of my pho­tographs into black and white. The end result is very sur­real, and the images become an abstract rep­re­sen­ta­tion of the sub­jects which I am pho­tograph­ing. Per­haps they more closely rep­re­sent the dream-like images from deep within my far-flung imag­i­na­tion. I think I love my Lens­baby Muse. It has been stuck to the front of my Canon 1ds Mark IV for the past cou­ple of months. Next, I think I shall try using this lens with my infrared cam­era. That should be inter­est­ing… I will always be in love with infrared pho­tog­ra­phy, but Lens­baby pho­tog­ra­phy is quickly becom­ing a close second.

A pho­to­graph taken with the Muse and plas­tic optic on a frigid day in March at Lake­view Ceme­tery, Cleveland

My Favorite Cof­fee Mug, Pur­chased On Etsy. Photo taken with Lens­baby Muse, plas­tic optic.

I love how the plas­tic optic gives this por­trait a dreamy glow, and a dynamic sense of motion.

Intrigued By Shad­ows And Life

Snowy Drive

The Raven

This is one of my lat­est infrared pho­tographs, taken here in San­dusky at Oak­land Ceme­tery. It reminds me of the poem, ‘The Raven” by Edgar Allen Poe.

Photo taken in infrared at Oak­land Ceme­tery, San­dusky, Ohio.

The Raven

Once upon a mid­night dreary, while I pon­dered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curi­ous vol­ume of for­got­ten lore,
While I nod­ded, nearly nap­ping, sud­denly there came a tap­ping,
As of some one gen­tly rap­ping, rap­ping at my cham­ber door.
‘‘Tis some vis­i­tor,’ I mut­tered, ‘tap­ping at my cham­ber door -
Only this, and noth­ing more.’

Ah, dis­tinctly I remem­ber it was in the bleak Decem­ber,
And each sep­a­rate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the mor­row; — vainly I had sought to bor­row
From my books surcease of sor­row — sor­row for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radi­ant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Name­less here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncer­tain rustling of each pur­ple cur­tain
Thrilled me — filled me with fan­tas­tic ter­rors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beat­ing of my heart, I stood repeat­ing
‘‘Tis some vis­i­tor entreat­ing entrance at my cham­ber door -
Some late vis­i­tor entreat­ing entrance at my cham­ber door; -
This it is, and noth­ing more,’

Presently my soul grew stronger; hes­i­tat­ing then no longer,
‘Sir,’ said I, ‘or Madam, truly your for­give­ness I implore;
But the fact is I was nap­ping, and so gen­tly you came rap­ping,
And so faintly you came tap­ping, tap­ping at my cham­ber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you’ — here I opened wide the door; -
Dark­ness there, and noth­ing more.

Deep into that dark­ness peer­ing, long I stood there won­der­ing, fear­ing,
Doubt­ing, dream­ing dreams no mor­tal ever dared to dream before
But the silence was unbro­ken, and the dark­ness gave no token,
And the only word there spo­ken was the whis­pered word, ‘Lenore!‘
This I whis­pered, and an echo mur­mured back the word, ‘Lenore!‘
Merely this and noth­ing more.

Back into the cham­ber turn­ing, all my soul within me burn­ing,
Soon again I heard a tap­ping some­what louder than before.
‘Surely,’ said I, ‘surely that is some­thing at my win­dow lat­tice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mys­tery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mys­tery explore; -
’Tis the wind and noth­ing more!’

Open here I flung the shut­ter, when, with many a flirt and flut­ter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obei­sance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my cham­ber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pal­las just above my cham­ber door -
Perched, and sat, and noth­ing more.

Then this ebony bird beguil­ing my sad fancy into smil­ing,
By the grave and stern deco­rum of the coun­te­nance it wore,
‘Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,’ I said, ‘art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wan­der­ing from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plu­ton­ian shore!‘
Quoth the raven, ‘Nevermore.’

Much I mar­velled this ungainly fowl to hear dis­course so plainly,
Though its answer lit­tle mean­ing — lit­tle rel­e­vancy bore;
For we can­not help agree­ing that no liv­ing human being
Ever yet was blessed with see­ing bird above his cham­ber door -
Bird or beast above the sculp­tured bust above his cham­ber door,
With such name as ‘Nevermore.’

But the raven, sit­ting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did out­pour.
Noth­ing fur­ther then he uttered — not a feather then he flut­tered -
Till I scarcely more than mut­tered ‘Other friends have flown before -
On the mor­row he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.‘
Then the bird said, ‘Nevermore.’

Star­tled at the still­ness bro­ken by reply so aptly spo­ken,
‘Doubt­less,’ said I, ‘what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy mas­ter whom unmer­ci­ful dis­as­ter
Fol­lowed fast and fol­lowed faster till his songs one bur­den bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melan­choly bur­den bore
Of “Never-nevermore.“‘

But the raven still beguil­ing all my sad soul into smil­ing,
Straight I wheeled a cush­ioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the vel­vet sink­ing, I betook myself to link­ing
Fancy unto fancy, think­ing what this omi­nous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and omi­nous bird of yore
Meant in croak­ing ‘Nevermore.’

This I sat engaged in guess­ing, but no syl­la­ble express­ing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
This and more I sat divin­ing, with my head at ease reclin­ing
On the cushion’s vel­vet lin­ing that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose vel­vet vio­let lin­ing with the lamp-light gloat­ing o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, per­fumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tin­kled on the tufted floor.
‘Wretch,’ I cried, ‘thy God hath lent thee — by these angels he has sent thee
Respite — respite and nepenthe from thy mem­o­ries of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and for­get this lost Lenore!‘
Quoth the raven, ‘Nevermore.’

‘Prophet!’ said I, ‘thing of evil! — prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tem­pest tossed thee here ashore,
Des­o­late yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by hor­ror haunted — tell me truly, I implore -
Is there — is there balm in Gilead? — tell me — tell me, I implore!‘
Quoth the raven, ‘Nevermore.’

‘Prophet!’ said I, ‘thing of evil! — prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us — by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sor­row laden if, within the dis­tant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radi­ant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?‘
Quoth the raven, ‘Nevermore.’

‘Be that word our sign of part­ing, bird or fiend!’ I shrieked upstart­ing -
‘Get thee back into the tem­pest and the Night’s Plu­ton­ian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spo­ken!
Leave my lone­li­ness unbro­ken! — quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!‘
Quoth the raven, ‘Nevermore.’

And the raven, never flit­ting, still is sit­ting, still is sit­ting
On the pal­lid bust of Pal­las just above my cham­ber door;
And his eyes have all the seem­ing of a demon’s that is dream­ing,
And the lamp-light o’er him stream­ing throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies float­ing on the floor
Shall be lifted — nevermore!

Anne Rice’s New Orleans First Street House

I have recently been work­ing on some of the pho­tos which I took almost exactly a year ago in New Orleans.  This is one that I took with my infrared cam­era in front of Rosegate — Anne Rice House at the cor­ner of First Street and Chest­nut Street in Gar­den Dis­trict. New Orleans, Louisiana.  It was amaz­ing to see this house in per­son, since it was the inspi­ra­tion for the May­fair man­sion in her Witch­ing Hour/ Tal­tos series.  I am a big fan of Anne Rice’s writ­ing, and I think she is one of the best con­tem­po­rary writ­ers.  I have spent many won­der­ful hours read­ing her sto­ries, and her words have trans­ported me to other worlds that exist within her imag­i­na­tion.  And what a beau­ti­ful place that is!  Stand­ing at the gate of 1239 First Street took me back to that realm.

Rosegate — Anne Rice House at the cor­ner of First Street and Chest­nut Street in Gar­den Dis­trict. New Orleans, Louisiana

Here is another infrared photo that I took while vis­it­ing Lafayette Ceme­tery #1 in the Gar­den Dis­trict in New Orleans.  This is where a few scenes from the movie “Inter­view With The Vam­pire” were filmed. 

Tombs and Iron­work Fence in New Orleans Ceme­tery Lafayette #1

And here is one more infrared photo that I took in Lafayette Ceme­tery #1.  This was obvi­ously a dis­carded tomb dec­o­ra­tion, but it reminded me of a Voodoo doll, and it also made for a strik­ing composition.

Dis­carded Decor From Tomb In Lafayette #1

And one more– Pray­ing For Eternity

Pray­ing For Eternity

I hope you enjoy look­ing at these pho­tos as much as I loved tak­ing them.  I love New Orleans!