The Lazy and The Grotesque

[Oh, why yes, I did give my blog a face-lift. I hope you like it! Now onto the post...]

I was feeling a bit grumpy about not taking pictures in weeks. Yeah, weeeeeeeeeeks. Gross. I think it's partly due to the increase of reading and writing in my spare time (nerd alert), but it's mostly because I haven't taken my camera out with me as much as I usually do. NOT OK.

So, the other day I forced myself outside to take some macros of plants, but ultimately returned underwhelmed and uninspired. I flopped down on my bed, defeated into laziness, and blindly reached for my camera bag on the floor. My hand found the small imitation leather drawstring bag that housed my macro filters, and the weight of it intrigued me as I pulled it up to my level. In it was my forgotten wide angle lens adaptor (I it used exactly one time for a video project few years ago) with a sizing ring that just so happened to fit onto my macro filters. I twisted it on and was instantly transported into a grotesque dream world. I loved it. I needed it.

(For those interested, the setup here is a 35mm Zeiss prime lens, 3 old macro filters I'm fairly certain I stole from my dad about 6 years ago when I was first getting into photography, and a cheap-o fish eye lens adaptor for a camcorder, in that order.) 

For the Love of Opera

Last weekend I went to 2 nights of opera at the Harpa. The recitals were wonderful and soul-filling and inspired this post.

Opera makes me happy, and it has made me happy since I was very young. The seeds must have been planted by my dad, who made us listen to it on the radio Saturday mornings (and boy did I think he was a genius for knowing what they were singing about even though it was in another language). But my true love of opera bloomed when I watched the end of Madam Butterfly on KBYU with my Grandma when I was no older than about 6 years old. Learning the reasoning behind the frightening silhouette of the dagger rising and falling made me horribly sad (but in a sad-is-deep-people's-happy sort of way). It was most likely my first exposure to a tragic love story, and it was something I thought about for years-- not quite sure how to voice the turmoil, internal anxiety, and fascination the narrative brought me. But then I learned I didn't have to. When I familiarized myself with the arias a few years later, I realized words alone were not a fit medium for description, and the best way to illustrate how the story made me feel was through the music that always had accompanied it. Experiencing the glorious sounds that make up Un Bel Di in particular was the perfect cathartic baptism that offered me closure (and closure, and closure, and closure). The younger version of me learned something awfully remarkable from this: sometimes life is really not fair, and often times it is very sad, but we can turn that horribleness into beauty to make others feel not so alone.

So far in my 24 years of living, I still haven't quite found a better interpretation for certain emotions than opera listened to with headphones in and eyes closed. I appreciate much more than I will list here, and I really don't care if any of you opera snobs out there poo-poo my somewhat cliché selection, but these songs are important to record as a great value to my life so far.

For longing and hopeful loneliness, it's Un Bel Di Vedremo from Madame Butterfly by Puccini.

For love at first sight, it's O Soave Fanciulla from La Boheme by Puccini.

And for the excellence that is a Bromance, Au Fond du Temple Saint from Bizet's Les Pêcheurs de Perles. This song is more or less an operatic "bros before hoes".

Ah, everything just feels so beautiful after listening to opera. :-)

Look How They Shine For You

I was feeling a little grumpy about not having seen the ever-so-famous Northern Lights in the 5 weeks since I arrived here in Iceland. "Oh, you'll see them," people said. And see them I did not. Not after braving multiple nights alone on the lava rock, and not after positioning myself next to a window to glance outside every 5 seconds on a clear night. I was starting to think they were a fantastic Truman Show style hoax my entire lifetime in the making.

And then... it happened.

My whole life, soul, and being was filled with complete and unrelenting happiness while I watched the iridescent dance in stark-raving awe. We are the luckiest creatures in the universe to experience such ecstasy in these moments of truly organic and raw beauty. I felt like shouting to the sky my thanks for it's willingness to share such a precious thing with me.

And, none of it would have been possible without help from my friend Hilmar who kindly drove me out to this excellent location, went back to lock the car because my camera bag was in it, went back again to get the remote I left in my camera bag, and kept me good company in the piercing cold while he patiently listened to my passionate bi-minutely reminders that we were looking at the freaking northern lights among other crazed verbal vomit. Being around an excited photographer geeking-out about a seemingly average thing is never an easy task.

I will never forget this night. Even if decay rots my brain in my old age, this memory will be unable leave my existence for it is within my soul to be cherished forever.

DesignMarch 2013: DesignTalks

This weekend is DesignMarch in Reykjavik. In 2008 a group of foreign journalists asked the question "what is Icelandic design?" and in 2009 DesignMarch was born, or so the story goes from my DesignMarch catalogue. Although the conceptualization of Icelandic design is young, fluid, and uncertain, artists and art appreciators alike flock to Reykjavik to share and inspire creativity from Iceland and beyond.

There are graphic, fashion, furniture, interior, artistic, abstract, music and jewelry designers showcasing their works all around the city in various shops, galleries and forums just ripe for the browsing. And on Thursday, it all opened with DesignTalks, a day of lectures about the magic of creativity. H, because of her infinite coolness, hosted these talks and generously put me on the guest list to attend.

Side Note: Thinking I'd be inside most of the day, I left home with only my Sony 5n. Although a good little camera, it didn't quite satisfy my needs of the day. I would have gotten better images with Markus the Third, but I'm still thankful to have brought it.

While I waited in the lobby for the doors to open at the National Theater, I was given a baked rock to warm my hands with. This made me gloriously nostalgic for childhood camping trips with hot rocks put in the bottom of sleeping bags for warming cold little toes with through the night. 

The first speaker was German designer Inge Druckrey. She discussed the art of seeing, and how learning the theoretical forms, compositions, etc, in books is not enough in an artistic education. We have to really and physically study it. We must see everyday things in terms of form and look for abstract in reality. Later on in her lecture she also mentioned the destructive nature of producing work based on deadlines and mass quantity because it might limit the resolve within the artist. I found that especially resonating and a interesting way to think about my discontent with being a commercial photographer.

Next was Maja Kuzmanovic and Nik Gaffney, the founders of FoAM (you can read more about it here). She spoke about invoking a feeling of freshness ("breath in... feel fresh... breath out... be here") in our every day lives, and also the importance of letting go of judgements and predications before starting a project as to better explore the present moments.

Talented curator Juliet Kinchin used a lot of fantastic visuals to explain her points which would be hard to describe in blog-form, but the overall message that stayed with me from her lecture was the magic gained from playing. Artists (and people in general) need to play.

Last was fashion design duo Mark Eley and Wakako Kishimoto of Eley Kishimoto (most famous for, but not limited to, the design "flash"). I really appreciated their down to earth look at the industry, something I wasn't expecting when I first saw them. They shied away from the pompous ideas of the fashion industry to embrace doing what they love. I always admire successful artists who choose not to play the games of the self-serving and self-indulgent industry.

After the lectures and Q&A session, I was kindly given the rest of the day off to explore the rest of what DesignMarch had to offer. I can't tell you how refreshing it is to feel supported to seek inspiration in my environment.

I walked through some of the exhibits, my brain digesting the feast this day was, and I felt compelled to take some photographs of abstract forms I found pleasing (among some other inspirations still growing which may blossom into other blog posts eventually). Sometimes the commercial wedding photographer in me feels digressive to look around for abstract forms of everyday objects, as if my time to do that was in high school with everyone else, but I figured if it's not my first impulse then it was especially important to do. So many things to unlearn, and so many habits to break...

As the air grew chilly, and the bottom of my maxi dress quite wet (again, wasn't planning on being outside that much when I prepared for the day), I stopped into the ever-touristy Cafe Paris for a hot chocolate. Definitely not the best Reykjavik has to offer, but good enough to warm up with.

After a rainy bus ride home, I met up with my dear and patient friends to study my Icelandic. While at their house, I had some berry soup with cream. There was something about the composition in the bowl before me that was quite lovely and needed to be photographed (probably to the confusion of my friends).

"Find the abstract forms in the everyday."

We are pretty lucky little mammals on this rock flinging around space to have such beautiful things all around us.