Reflections and remnants – another melding of two separate photographs. From the series Surface, Submerge.
© Karen McRae, 2013
photography
The Water Phoenix
This image is made from 2 photographs. One being a surface reflection of flowing water, and the other, remains of a seagull.
The seagull caught my eye because as it was lying in the water at the river’s edge, the wings were moving with the rhythmic lapping of the water, as though somehow, there was still a touch of life.
© Karen McRae, 2013
Sweeping Gestures
© Karen McRae, 2013
looking for spring and finding a little
It seems appropriate that the first buds to open in spring are little catkins dressed in fur coats. You can see why they still might need winter coats around here – the days are still frosted at the edges.
I came across these pussy willows quite by accident this morning – something told me to walk just a little further, and look just a little more carefully. They are just coming to life.
© Karen McRae, 2013
Feathered and Frosted
It is hard to believe Spring is just a few days away (photographs from early this morning). It seems likely the next photographs posted here will be laden with fresh snow … the clouds are moving in – Winter is not through with us.
© Karen McRae, 2013
Dissolution
Taking things apart.
Above are the two separate images I had combined in the previous post. The duck is cropped to make it less central. It still feels very familiar to me this particular bird-in-flight form.
It twigged a memory of watching the herons in flight during the last days of Autumn, just before migration. It is such a different form.
[Thank you to everyone who joined in the discussion for the last post. It was very interesting!]
© Karen McRae, 2013
Canadian Kitsch
I admit Kitsch is not ever usually what I’m after photographically, but this image just somehow seems to me an embodiment of landscape sentimentality and it got me thinking about how we perceive images and how difficult it is to make something new.
I photographed the landscape (slow shutter speed and camera movement), and the duck separately and then merged them together in Photoshop. It immediately made me uncomfortable and it took me a little while to figure out why.
Here’s the thing; I feel like I have seen the essence of this image a million times in a million different ways over my lifetime. As though it holds the spirit of so many images (sculpture, painting, photography, …) that came before it. I realize, also, that the composition is imperfect and I think it adds to that sense of kitsch.
Most images echo back to the past in some way, but this photograph seemed particularly striking to me. How does a bird in flight hold so much meaning? And why does it make me feel a bit wobbly? I suppose it is the idea of finding that you have made something that has been made a million times already. The same , only different.
© Karen McRae, 2013
Not to Scale
[Each of these images are made with 2 separate photographs layered in Photoshop. The water reflection photographs are in-camera double exposures and the fish is merely a figment of your imagination. If it was real it would not be fresh.]
© Karen McRae, 2013
it’s been a winter,
he said
yes, it has been
a winter
The First Throw
The thing to consider about weeping willows, is that they are inherently mischievous.
There are many stories to support this thought. Tales of entanglement, trickery and enchantment. Stories also, of their wisdom.
If you lived much of your childhood beneath a graceful willow, you know the stories of wisdom are true. You will know, too, of their affability.
But, when you stop beneath a snow-laden willow on a day in late winter, you might be reminded of their playfulness. For the trees are awakening.
And while you are veiled in its beauty – when you feel encompassed and safe; it will start the battle then.
For what is wisdom, without humour?
it’s been a winter,
he said
yes, I love that it’s been a winter
© Karen McRae, 2013
draw and shoot 