Julie's Galleries

Up Close and Intimate with Flowers

“Why do you photograph flowers?” people ask.  The answer is easy.  I never grow weary of seeking out and capturing their images. A flower’s color can catch the eye, and for a portrait, they are cooperative subjects.  They remain still, unlike children, animals, birds, and insects.  Flowers and their scents transport me to special times in my past spent with loved ones in their gardens.  Their beauty is a constant inspiration.  Eckhart Tolle in his new book A New Earth:  Awakening to Your Life’s Purpose claims seeing beauty in a flower can awaken us, however briefly, to the beauty that is an essential part of our own innermost being, our true nature.

 

Florida, Land of Flowers, is the perfect state for the beginner in the art of flower photography.  You can easily find something in bloom twelve months of the year.  You only need a few simple things:  a camera (a disposable works), sunscreen, and a pair of old sneakers.  Then, with one simple step out your front door, you can discover her many beauties.

I began shooting close-up flower images when I received a Canon 2.1 mega pixel pocket digital camera with macro mode (the tiny flower icon setting) as a gift.  If your camera has this setting, try it.  Experiment.  Get close to the bloom, fill the frame with color and snap away.  I never leave home without my camera, slipping it into a side pocket of my shoulder bag.  Early one Sunday morning, I was returning a rental to Blockbuster when I spotted a row of Little Gem Magnolias in bloom.  Their large creamy white flower is a perfect specimen for getting up close and personal and creating abstract compositions, focusing on the stamens and the dramatic maroon centers.  And the beauty of digital is you can take a hundreds of shots and discern later what to keep or delete.

 

Another personal favorite is the Purple Passion Flower or Maypop, easily found along countryside roads and unkempt borders of parking lots, with its imaginative bloom that looks like something out of Dr. Seus' Whoville.  Its hanging lemon-size pods are used to make jellies and juices.  If you step on a ripe pod, a loud popping sound occurs—hence the name.  During August, you can find this spectacular flower vining along the Oviedo's Cross Seminole Trail.

The trail affords unlimited opportunities for interesting shots.  A repeat bloomer all summer is the Datura, or Angel’s Trumpet, with striking trumpet-shaped blooms in yellow, white, and light purple.  But beware! all parts of this plant are highly poisonous.  Other trail gems include Wild Balsam Apples, Tarflowers, delicate Marlberries, wild Begonias, Yellow Buttons, Butterfly Peas, Meadow Beauties, Primrose Willows, wild Allamandas, Firebushes, and more.

You don’t need to spend a lot of money on gas to find extraordinary flowers.  Visit your nearest park.  Mead Gardens, in the heart of Winter Park,

sports elegant Blue Flag Iris blooming on the pond perimeter.  And you don’t need to travel to the beaches to shoot sea grapes and exotic hibiscus,  There are some fine specimens at Orlando's Leu Gardens, off Corrine Drive.

During your search for flowers, always remember good photography etiquette:  be courteous and respectful of the wild, leave everything as you find it.  Resist picking a wildflower.  Unlike cultivated flowers for florists, wildflowers wilt instantly and are unable to withstand the trek home to a water-filled vase.  When accessing private property, ask permission to take photos.

Have no regrets...

"It's never too late to be who you might have been."  - George Eliot (1819-1880)

(I prefer her real name, Mary Ann Evans.  Not only was she a novelist, but she painted watercolors--florals--and sculpted, too.) 

Never Leave Home without Camera

I witnessed an exciting and fascinating bird sighting this morning.  At first glance, what appeared to be a playful game of hide and seek turned out to be a rarely seen ritualistic territorial dance between two male Pileated woodpeckers.  Near the lower third of our neighbor's oak tree, two males danced around on either side.  Nothing distracted them.  At 8:00 am, the neighborhood was hopping.  Garage doors opened and closed, cars whizzed by, people were walking dogs (like myself), jogging, biking.  Their dance lasted for almost five minutes which allowed me the chance to stop and observe these two magnificant prehistoric looking birds with their flaming red crests, white-striped faces, and black crowlike bodies.  They flew off screaming their familar ki-ki-ki-, awoika, awoika before I could discern who rules.

Einstein on the source of his creativity:

"I get my best ideas anywhere among the three B's--the Bath, the Bed, the Bus."

The Call to Create: Celebrating Acts of Imagination by Linda Schierse Leonard, Ph.D.

Leonard does a superb job of identifying the characters that rise up inside creative personalities that hinder our ability to lead a creative life.  She helps us confront fears and transform obstacles that block artistic endeavors so that we may tell our stories through words, painting, music, dance, film, etc.   Through her examples of myths, archetypes, and, then, ordinary people, like ourselves, meeting the challenge, we are given the courage to cooperate with a force greater than ourselves and experience the joy of cocreating.

Creative Manifesto #1

A – Only ALONE, am I something.

B – I am at my BEST when I don’t know what I’m doing.

C – I am the COLORS of a Painted Bunting.

D – I can not control my DEATH or anyone else’s.

E – I am on EARTH to say the good things about everyone.

F – There are no shoulds in art—art is FREE.

G – GOD is a verb—only in action, can we express God energy.

H – Through art, I release my mental house of HORRORS.

I – I am a woman who gives birth to IMAGES.

J – I am Juliet, call me Julie, pronounced JOY.

K – My poet heart sits on the KNOLL overlooking my life.

L – The cure for LOVE is to give more love.

M - MOURNING dove’s bright orange feet inspire me.

N – NATURE is my God-mother.

O – I OPEN my creative channel to the Creator.

P – My PEACE is a lavender butterfly.

Q – I nurture that QUIRKY person inside who thinks differently.

R – My own RECOVERY is the first priority in my life.

S – I no longer hide behind SECRETS, lies, or betrayals.

T – I shall eat TOAST until the day I die.

U – I am a sea URCHIN, a tightly curled starfish.

V – I am a tall white VIOLET living in a lush tropical garden.

W - I have no choice.  This is what I do:  WRITING and art.

X – X marks the spot where my heart meets the Creator.

Y – is the divining rod that locates underground treasures.

Z – “ZIPPER peas ‘n ham hocks, they’re real good!”

- j. dunsworth (7/07)

Toni Frissell---an American Treasure

"I'd rather stalk with a camera than a gun." c. 1935

- Toni Frissell (1907-1988)

Silver Impulses

Lying in bed, with warming dog, barely breathing,

already asleep, curled tight against my belly,

I close my eyes, relaxing each muscle from toe to head

and, finally, releasing my mind, I give a kick,

as I topple over the edge of sleep’s escarpment

when the muse strikes

lightning sharp, sending silver impulses:

words swirl, burble, zip, zap, sparkle, sizzle—

revelation, revolution, resolution.

Powerless, I slip from beneath silk,

low growl follows to the next room

where desk beckons—

I really don’t feel until I put pen to paper

I really can’t hear until I still

in quiet meditation the raging demons.

Only then do I hear things

that were there all along

like the mantle clock from my childhood

heralding the quarter hour,

the steady hum of the heat pump,

gurgles from the depths of the dishwasher,

the cat lapping water from her dish,

my husband’s little whistles, clicks, hics,

soothing sounds, lifting me up in wondrous ways.

I really don’t care until I’m stopped dead in my tracks,

then out of my own weaknesses and vulnerabilities

rises a strength and courage, like an oak seedling

bursting through a crack in the cement,

to finally surrender and commit to nature’s

powerful call for my own unique nature to come alive.

- j. dunsworth

Trapped inside our traditional poems...

"Umekwama na mimi ndani ya hizi mashahiri--You and I are trapped inside our traditional poems."

- Kitu-Sewer, Kenyan Poet-Rapper

Blue Man Group Review

Last April, my channel surfing husband mentioned he’d like to see the Blue Man Group.  He’s a guy who likes rock ‘n roll and cold cereal.  Content, not wanting for much, he’s tough to shop for and his 64^th birthday was coming up.  In the dark about Blue Man, I did a little research on the net and then checked with my hip daughter who said, “Do it, Mom!  But just so you’ll know, their show’s more about the experience than the music.”  I told her back in the 70s, we’d call that a “Happening.”  So, instead of the usual golf stuff (balls, gloves, shoes, you know the drill), I purchased tickets on-line for the Blue Man Group at Universal.  It turned out to be the best gift ever.

In the opening scene, the men raised welding masks revealing bald heads, no ears, oily blue faces and blazing eyes, as they beat a primal beat.  Paint streamed upwards giving the appearance of oil drums on fire against a night sky!  We traveled back in time, to contemplate our roots:  blue collar industrial

Pittsburgh

of the 1960s and we loved it.

During Saturday night’s performance, I marveled at the complexity of the performers:  post-modern clowns, wizards, mimes, rock musicians, abstract artists, alien robots, all rolled up into three deliciously endearing characters.  Their childlike puzzled looks brought back an appreciation of my own lost innocence.

At one point in the evening, they scanned the audience and chose the perfect participant to join them for dinner on stage to break Twinkies—a woman with a charming smile and contagious laugh who not only played along with their antics but added another layer of humanity.  She broke her own Twinkie into pieces and shared it with the Blue Men, feeding them, like the bride at a wedding feast.

Other highlights included a hilarious satire on the world wide web of indoor plumbing, their magical PVC pipe instruments, the fascinating educational piece dating animation back to two overlapping bisons under flickering lights in a French cave painting, the extraordinary energy of their backup band in electric costumes, and the endless rolls of toilet paper flowing over our heads.

The Blue Man Group is refreshing entertainment without any violence, unless you consider a Blue Man catching and stuffing dozens of marshmallows in his mouth, or a Twinkie being sliced in two with a saber saw, or watching a good natured audience member hang upside down, his swinging body slapped against a blank canvas, a human rubber stamp, to create art, violent.

This is pure family fun.  My feet and hands were never still.  Don’t miss it.  We are fortunate to be living in Orlando, one of the host cities for this event.  Oh, and by the way, obey the recommended dress code, just in case bits of paint, jello or munchies fly your way.

- Julie Dunsworth