We danced along the Catawaba, asking those of the River to remember us...
This blog is the backroom for Studio Four Magazine. With paint, words and photographs all about, It is a working space where projects are formed, refined and first developed before being published. Studio Four Magazine can be found at www.studiofour.com
Sunday, October 30, 2016
Friday, October 28, 2016
THE TELLING OF TRUE WEALTH
Highway 21 runs north and south through the heart of the Carolina Piedmont to the Low Country. It is a highway of commerce where people live and make a living. As you move south, though, that commerce gives way to gentle rural land and beauty. You find gems from the past like the old house I took a photo of. After taking the picture, I saw a woman with a cane walking out to her mailbox from a farm home. Wanting to learn more about the house, I drove up the road to introduce myself. Her name was Edna. I ask if she knew any history on the home.
She said yes, “It was the Thomas Farm.” She paused for a moment looking at it. “My husband always wanted to buy it and the acreage that came with it. When he died, I used part of the life insurance money to make his dream of our mile come true. The Thomas acreage and ours totaled 640 acres. Our mile was made.”
Edna and I chatted for a while then she politely said good bye and started walking back to her home. I looked beyond the home to behold property that stretched to a far line of trees, some fields tilled, some not and two horses roaming free. My business mind kicked in and did the math. 640 acres times the going price for farm land was $1.8 million. It would be worth four times more once new commerce reached here. I wondered, as I watched her walk toward her home, if she understood that wealth. Then I looked again at “her mile.” Perhaps she did not understand my math but could provide a telling of true wealth.
Tuesday, October 18, 2016
GARNETT DISTRICT - ATLANTA WANDERINGS
Atlanta impresses, its skyline fills the landscape and glistens in the afternoon sun. There were lots of places to explore with my camera. One place though beckoned me, the Garnett District. Official guides politely described it as “just south of Five Points is the somewhat rundown and isolated area of downtown near the Greyhound Bus station and government buildings.” On the map, it looked like a place where the glitzy Peachtree and Forsyth Streets crashed into dead ends right at the Bus station. I knew this was where I would find artist and parts of the city both untouched and touched by real people. My camera was not disappointed by my adventures there.
Thursday, September 22, 2016
FINDING ART OPPORTUNITY
"Painted Letter" by David Young
Ansel Adams took on many photographic assignments beyond national parks. He was once hired by a bank in Hawaii to photograph the islands. Steering away from the normal attractions, he sought out undiscovered and less traveled sites to photograph. One was a cluster of grave markers in Paia, Maui. It turned out to be one of his most famous photographs entitled “Buddhist Grave Markers and Rainbow.”
Later he would write in “The Making of 40 Photographs,” that you did not have to know everything about a subject of a photo to make it great. He never did find out what the inscriptions on the stones meant, but he knew there was a great photograph in them. He said, “I am glad that I do not understand the language of operas; I can enjoy the music without being bothered with the words.” Finding good opportunities in art seems much like this to me, where too much information can stand in the way.
David Young
Wednesday, September 21, 2016
A SIMPLE SONG
A Simple Song
We had this conversation before. You always looking back at me coldly, resolute in your way. I wanted your life to be a simple song. I tried to raise you as best I could after your mother was gone. We talked before about what a simple song life could be. You only wanted to put evil in your arms and nose, hanging out with others that had no end. You never responded to my pleas, only looking back at me, coldly, resolute in your ways. I knew this would be our last talk, as I looked up to hear the words of another man dressed in black and the dirt being tossed in.
We had this conversation before. You always looking back at me coldly, resolute in your way. I wanted your life to be a simple song. I tried to raise you as best I could after your mother was gone. We talked before about what a simple song life could be. You only wanted to put evil in your arms and nose, hanging out with others that had no end. You never responded to my pleas, only looking back at me, coldly, resolute in your ways. I knew this would be our last talk, as I looked up to hear the words of another man dressed in black and the dirt being tossed in.
David Young
Sunday, September 11, 2016
Saturday, September 10, 2016
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