Shattering the blue

"To create one's world in any of the arts takes courage. I have been terrified every day of my life, but that has never stopped me from doing everything I wanted to do.
To make your unknown known - that is the important thing."

- Georgia O'Keefe

I am afraid of my own art.

Although I like to tell my wife that she's got a lot of great stuff - that she will succeed as an artist, I scoff at the same idea for myself and my photography.

I define myself as a high school teacher. Yet I also love the art of photography.

Take this cloudy sky. I shot it during a very brief moment at a wedding we had a month or so ago. I had a moment of stunned disbelief at the beauty of the clouds and the sunlight violently shattering the blue. I imagined myself out somewhere, in the country, taking photos at that moment, the breeze gently rolling through a valley, breathing in the beauty around me.

I love those quiet moments with the camera. The scenes I find sometimes literally takes my breath away - and all I can do is stand there for a moment taking it all in. Then I frame the photo and capture it for others to see.

The thing is, and I don't want to sound conceited, but I'm pretty good. But for some reason I don't want others to know it...
























I laugh when we do art shows because my "photography never sells."

This isn't really true - and it's always my wife who reminds me of this.

I've had individual people pay hundreds of dollards for my art - people who find my captured moments of beauty close to their heart.

Yet... doubt and disbelief settle in like good friends coming over to talk about old times.

The truth is that I've never really tried. It's staggeringly easier to say to myself, quietly, "I'm not good enough," and let it be. And although I want to scream at my wife when she has some self doubt (because her art has always succeeded), I don't follow my own advice, even if I can say that I am pretty good.

There is an artist inside me, waiting.

Lurking.

Trying to get out and be something - to say something true.

Maybe some day I'll have the courage, like my wife, to speak.

This Tuesday.

Epic.

Dreaming

Some days my life does feel like a dream - a good one. I came home last night after a long day, stressed out and tired beyond words. School has been pretty hectic for me, and there's just so much going on, it seems hard to catch up and spend some time just enjoying life.

I stay up at night thinking about all the things I have to do at school, and I wake up earlier every day because my restless nights are filled with the same thoughts. It's sick. I know it.

But last night, as I walked to the door, my wife had put a "Welcome Home" sign up. It instantly made me smile.

I walked in and saw here at the table, candles lit, and dinner on the table. Music played in the background, and all my worries and stress just oozed off my shoulders. Her dinner was fantastic, and we sat together and talked for a while, just enjoying each other's company.

It feels good to be loved and to live a dream.

Thank you, Casey.

Together

This is a "photo poem." It's a photo I took matched with my wife's writing. What's cooler than that?

My wife is, without a doubt, the most talented person I've ever met. Her writing is filled with so much emotion and truth - with hope and passion - that it brings out new and exciting views of my photography.

Her art and writing inspires me. Her outlook on life, even in a dark world, gives me hope.

Her love makes everything worth it.

Catie

Shooting with Catie was amazing. It started off with us just experimenting with some flash setups, but when I couldn't get things to work like I wanted, I abandoned the flash and just took photos. Catie was a rockstar, and I can't imagine having more fun!

Time

It doesn't seem like it's possible, but next week begins my sixth year of teaching high school. It's a completely unreal feeling, thinking that I've been doing this for five years.

It's cliche' to say "it seems like yesterday," - but it does.

My first year is such a blur to me. I remember coming to school from my apartment, trying to just survive the day. I remember spending hours and hours preparing, lesson planning, and just THINKING about what I was going to do the next day. Of course, I could never predict what was to happen, so I always felt like I could have done more.

It's so different now. While teaching still takes a considerable amount of time, the time spent is just so much more fun than ever before.

I've learned to give the power to the students. They can handle it if you teach them how.
I've learned to say no. Often. Repeatedly. Without argument. It makes saying "yes" so much more meaningful.
I've learned that you absolutely can have fun in class while challenging the students.

I've learned that, even in the chaotic mess of the school day, and in this wild world we live in - I absolutely can make a difference.

I can't wait for this year, this adventure, to begin.

Avery

This is my second cousin, Avery.


















The title sounds so weird. A "second cousin" sounds like someone I'd only meet every five years, at some weird family reunion, and I'd say "Wow - you look different... it's been like five years since I saw you." Then they'd laugh and that'd be it as we politely avoided each other because we didn't have anything to say.

Avery is not that kind of a second cousin.

Her mother, Becky, is much more of a sister to me. I grew up with Becky and spent a lot of time with her family when I was young - so she's always been close to my heart.

Now she's a mother, and I can't keep my eyes dry as I write this.

Yesterday, as I looked at Avery with a strange sense of bewilderment, amazement, and awe(That's a baby! That's Becky's baby!), it was hard not to have flashes of her future pass before me.

She has amazing parents and a family full of warmth and love. She will never know the sting of her parent's divorce, the crushing pain of abuse, or the abandonment of her own dreams.

Her life will be one in which all things are possible. She has people in her life that will fight for her dreams - that will make sure her future is one that is filed with truth and beauty - of strength and hope.

I can see her holding hands with her parents, laughing, playing, dreaming, hoping, and loving.

She will treat animals as the precious gifts they are.

She will love to eat.

The color purple will always be special to her.

She will brag that she has the coolest grandparents on the face of the Earth.

Her aunt will spoil her and will always be close to her, even if there is physical distance between them.

There will be thousands of photographs of her.

She will make a difference in this world.

Most importantly, she will never know how lucky she is.

That's the way it should be.

Hope

Every animal I've ever had in my life has been special.

Every one.

So it shouldn't be shocking to say that this one has a special spot in my heart.

I've written about her before, so you might know the story. The short version: she was found, being kicked around by stupid kids at the school I teach for, in the middle of winter. She was a kitten. She was cold. I took her in.

Now she's a part our life. My wife and I are constantly amused and amazed by her tender, playful soul, and we wouldn't know what to do without her. She belongs here as much as we do. Like the other two cats in our home - this is her home. We're just paying the bills.

Every time I look at her - every time I play with her and watch her jump through the air gracefully, I think of what could have happened to her if I hadn't taken her in.

Who knows? I don't want to even think about it.

She has brought us so much love and warmth, that I can honestly say bringing her home was one of the best things I've ever done in my life... and at the time it was such an honest decision - simply to follow my heart.

Hope, even for small, cold and afraid little animals exists. That makes me smile.

Not enough napkins

They only gave me two napkins for a ten napkin meal.

Best BBQ on Earth.

The Last Great Journalist

Those closest

Dad... What can I say?

It's a tough one - writing about him. I love him, of course, but he's just so difficult to be around sometimes. He's so moody and thinks he knows the best about everything, that it's tough sometimes just to go to the store with him. He'll tell you you're closing the door too hard, and that it will break the door eventually. He tells you your going to fast - or slow - or that you are too quick on the clutch - or that you shouldn't have stopped at that stop sign - and then where to park and how to park. This happens every. single. time. we go somewhere.

So it's tough sometimes - showing him the love you have for him when you're with him.

But love him I do.

In the past few years, he's really turned to me for conversation. He doesn't really have friends - and although he lives with my mom, my sister, and his granddaughter, he doesn't feel like he can talk to them. They're females - and what does he have to say to them?

So he pulls me downstairs to show me his latest models (of course, they are all boxed up and put away), talk about cars, and show me the kind of deals he's gotten lately (he has, probably, twenty .50 cent watches he's purchased at garage sales). He teaches me how to charge un-rechargeable batteries (not a good thing), how to paint models using a home-made spray box, and rummages through cut-outs of magazine and newspaper articles he saves about cars and random stuff.

He has a serious desire to teach me things. He always wanted me to learn how to fix cars (he was a mechanic), work with wood, and build things for myself. I think because he was always so difficult - I didn't want to learn. Because no matter what he tried to teach you - you were never really good enough, and the critiques became endless.

I remember going to him time and again to show him my latest drawings. Every once in a while, he would nod and smile (and make my day) - but most of the time he would tell me it wasn't good enough.

Even the other day, he came over for dinner, and told me that the photos we have all over the walls just don't cut it. He told me "you have to do something different! Those look like they were from the 70's."

Now... you have to take that with a grain of salt. His eyes are so bad I seriously doubt he even knew what the subject matter was. Yet it hurt all the same.

My father. He's a tough one to get along with... but there will be a day when I miss his nagging and his desire to teach me more. Maybe I need to take the time to let him teach me a few things - wrong or not - and cherish the small moments that will always be with me.

Mom's Garden

When I first started doing photography, more than five years ago now, I always wanted to take shots of my mom's garden. Her garden is magical, and her and my sister tend to it with a loving touch that brings the garden to life.



However, it never really worked out. The shots never had any impact or really demonstrated the beauty of her garden.

I think I finally got a few.

Assignment

Went out this morning on a self-imposed assignment. Take ten pictures - and only ten. No re-shots if I didn't get the exposure right (full manual mode, as usual), and no editing later on in Photoshop. I used the 5D and 35 1.4L. Ten shots, posted here, in full manual mode. It was fun.

The Blame Game

The other day an old buddy of mine sent one of those general emails to a bunch of us. It’s one of the ones I usually delete, but for some reason I checked it out anyway. It was a series of videos from an interview with a guy named Yuri in the 80’s. He claimed to be ex-KGB, working for the Soviets on destroying America without using weapons.

Basically, he claimed to have been part of a massive, coordinated “mind-bomb” that destroyed America from within. He claimed to have basically corrupted the media, destroy American schools, and set along a path of moral corruption of our society.

They were interesting videos – but I don’t believe them for a moment. I mean – who is that guy? Yuri? Ex-KGB? Talk about delusions of grandeur…

Is there corruption in the government? Yes.

Is there corruption of the media? Yes.

Does the government control much of what we see in the media? Yes. (And if you think otherwise, just look at their policy toward media and military caskets – or look closely at the Pat Tillman case).

Do major corporations have way too much power in America? Yes.

Are the school systems a corrupt system designed to indoctrinate a population? More or less – yes.

Yet it’s not Yuri’s fault, Osama Bin Laden’s fault, or anyone else’s fault. It’s ours. And when I say “ours” I mean me. And you. And your friends, and everyone you know.

See – in this country, we have lots of problems. Deep, horrible, secret problems that we like to blame on everyone else.

Back in the day the President seemed to blame everything on gay marriage. “Gay marriage is causing the corruption of society!,” many leaders seemed to say.

Then gay bashing got old, and we moved on to something else.

Right now the great evil of the nation is illegal immigration. But let’s not forget that when they say “illegal immigration” they are really talking about any immigrants that don’t look like white folk.

The other day on the radio, as an ode to Father’s Day tomorrow, all the problems of society were blamed on fatherless families.

When there are no “hot topics” involved, it’s a lot of fun to blame liberals, right-wingers, secular progressives, pro-life, pro-choice, religion, Janet Jackson’s breasts, or any of a dozen other things I can list right here.

So what’s my point? My point is that we (and that I mean me too), should stop blaming others in general terms. We’re not screwed up as a nation because of Yuri and his beer buddies. We’re screwed up as a nation because of apathy – because we’re always blaming others. “If only the democrats had control of the House and Senate! Then things will be different!”

Remember that? I cheered that morning, when the Democrats won, pumping my fist in the air, cheering for “my side” like it was a football game.

What has it done? What the hell have the Democrats done since?



This squirrel is not the root of America's problems...

It makes me realize, just like Howard Zinn believes, politicians in power don’t change things.

We do.

Remember the civil rights movements? What was the government and the so-called “leaders” of this country doing to improve the rights of the minority population of America? NOTHING. They, in fact, opposed doing anything at all – until millions of people were marching and rioting in the streets.

Finally they said, “Shit – some guy just set himself on fire on our front lawn – this sucks!”

So don’t get stuck in the blame game. Don’t tell people we’re a screwed up nation because that guy down the street with the “pro-life” sign in his yard is corrupting America. Don’t blame him, and don’t even blame George Bush.

Look in the mirror. Evaluate your belief system. Talk to people about a positive vision of the future.

And sooner or later, when more and more people see that there IS hope in this world, and that the politicians and corporations are actually very, very afraid of us, then maybe one day we can rattle some cages and make some real changes in this world.

Out of Retirement

You know it's serious "old-school" time when I put on this hat. It's old and worn out. It's not very attractive with the crusties. But it's still my favorite hat of all time, and it was only appropriate to bring it out of retirement for the Hatebreed, God Forbid, Terror, and Evergreen Terrace show last night. Match that with my old red jersey, and I was having a serious feeling of nostalgia.

As I sit here, the ringing in my ears is JUST starting to go away. I have some aches and bruises too, but it was all worth it. The concert might have been the best I've ever witnessed.

You know it's going to be special when Terror is the opening act. These guys could probably headline, and here they are opening. They came on stage to a still-arriving and "cold" crowd and quickly whipped the room into a frenzy. Seriously - within a few minutes the pit formed, heads were whipping back and forth, and it seemed like the last song of the night when everyone goes "all-out."

It was almost like Terror was setting the bar for the other bands - and I didn't think Evergreen had a chance. I was wrong. The lead singer, a skinny blond-haired guy, came on stage and destroyed the place. The band itself was very cool live, and just kept the intensity up the entire set. It was awesome.

God Forbid was next, and by then, the crowd was ravenous. When they walked on stage, the roar of the crowd was terrifying, and God Forbid absolutely blew that place up.

I thought I had given up the pit. I really, honestly thought I would never get back in it, but when my buddy Eric said "I'm going in" sometime in the middle of God Forbid's set, I didn't even hesitate.

Over the years the pit has seemed to change. It went from a brutal, brotherly game of football without rules, helmets, or time outs to wiry little guys running through the pit throwing their fists all over the place. I hated how it had changed, and match that with my much older and slow-to-heal body, and I thought I had retired.

Last night, though, was the pit of old. The pit I love.

If you don't understand the pit, you never will. Don't even try - because it really is just a black or white issue. You either love it or you hate it.

I love it.

The mosh pit is something that on the outside is completely ridiculous, dangerous, completely stupid, and probably should be illegal. Inside the pit, however, things are different. You're part of a hardcore group doing something so brutal most people wouldn't even consider it.

There is nothing else that matches true hardcore heavy metal than the feeling of the pit - getting in there, bashing each other, screaming in the swirling, uncontrollable chaos. We get in there and put the hurt on each other -trying to out-slam the other guys, trying to stay standing, trying to breathe... and loving every second of it. When one of us falls, there is quickly a mass of people around to help you back up, giving you a pat on the back and a "go-get-em" look as they push you back out into the madness whether you want to or not.

Last night's pit was awe-inspiring, and God Forbid pushed us to what I thought was our max.

That was until Hatebreed came out.

Hatebreed put on a performance I will not forget. It was one of the most intense, heavy, and mind-blowing shows I've ever even imagined. The pit never stopped, and the intensity just kept building. They played new stuff and old, and the entire room was completely out-of-control.

Half-way during "DESTROY EVERYTHING," the pit was pure uncontrolled craziness, and I got completely destroyed (getting old sucks). My hat flew off, and I remember, on my way down, thinking "well, at least I lost that hat at a Hatebreed show."

Amazingly, however, a hand reached down to help me up, and it was Matt - a student I had my first year teaching. Matt was a "troubled" kid - although he had a big heart, he also had a lot of baggage, coming from a group home and had some serious problems with anger management. He and I didn't always see eye-to-eye, and I was tough on him sometimes, but he came back to see me a few years after that just to tell me how much I meant to him.

So here he was at the Hatebreed concert, his shirt off, showing off some tattoos, helping me off the floor. In his other hand was my hat. He threw it on my head, said "I love you, Z!" and after a quick hug, we launched ourselves right back into the pit.

Unforgettable.

Boxed In

You know - lately I've felt a bit boxed in creatively. I've been so busy with school and weddings, I haven't really had the chance to go out and be creative with some cool landscapes. The weddings are a good source of creative output - but the pressure and breakneck pace of the day isn't relaxing at all.

Now that it's summer, I hope I can take some time between weddings, classes, and other engagements to get out there in the Element, my windows down, chasing the light across the Nebraska landscape.

Maybe then I'll post more.

One More

I forgot to post an "action" shot from the Living Garden. Here it is.

The Living Garden and My New Lens

These are all with my new 70-200 2.8 L IS lens. In photography, sometimes you get what you pay for.

This lens is one of those times.