Confidence, Resignation or Apathy?

I am not certain it is confidence, resignation or apathy that originated this but I am fairly certain all photographers (and digital/print artists in general) go through various emotional phases in attempting to protect their work.  Not only from online thieves who would crop out your information, remove the metadata and print themselves their own version of your work they love, but those social media outlets who would love to call all of your content their own as well.  Argh.  

I have been shooting now since Nov 22, 2013, almost 13 months.  Now, within the last 24 hours, I finally reached a milestone where I dropped the huge watermark across the middle of any new images posted up in favor of something small in the lower right; I really need to work up my own little logo soon.  It pains me, but then I suppose if something is worthy enough of thievery then at least someone likes it enough to partake in it...?  That is a very sore attempt at being accommodating, but, well...yeah.  Of course I'd greatly prefer someone pay me for my work if it resonates with them sufficiently to want it near them but I don't have a portal set up yet.  It does feel wonderful to have people asking!!!  I do see some graphic artists offering up smaller, lower-res/lower-quality versions of their work for free so I might look into something like that at some point but it doesn't strike me as something that would work as well for photographers. We'll see. 

Let's try this...for an IT Director I am such a noobit...! 

(Dhaulagiri removed temporarily)

w0ot? 



© 2014 Michael Pichahchy

Pictures are like Snowflakes

When starting out as an artist, the best and worst thing you can do is peruse similar work of other artists.  It can be and usually is monumentally inspiring and enlightening, but it can also be a brutally disheartening experience for many.  Looking at your own work and comparing it to the work of others.  Gawd...I sux!  Especially when partaking in the work of those who have honed their craft over years...decades.  But you don't stop to consider even when your logical mind tells you 'duh!'.  I am good at a lot of things, I should be able to pick this up and play with the Philadelphia Philharmonic next week, right?  Srsly?  Not even that blunt reality check softens the blow. 

 It has been just over a year since I picked up my first DSLR.  Ok, yes, if you count my first experience over a dozen years ago, no...but that was a learning experience all its own.  The previous paragraph's point notwithstanding, most of us are level-headed enough to know that there are always technical and artistic learning curves and we balance ourselves accordingly as we pursue a dream of expressing to others what it is we see in our minds.  As I navigated my own winding trails I learned an incredible amount about myself.  One of the worst parts was the idea of trying to make enough money to support myself.  The idea of the the 'starving artist' is infectious in our culture; unfortunately I feel many don't pursue their passions because of this and it saddens me.  Then there's the fact that Peter Lik just broke the world record the other day with a $6.5 million sale of a B&W version of his 'Ghost'.  This is what we hear; what we don't hear about as often are those people who make decent to very good livings doing what they love and are not in mainstream media.  I like to think of it as living a satisfying level of success while reaching for Lik-like notoriety (that you might actually realize and enjoy before you're fertilizing daisies, if that is your goal...my point being that some artists are only popular because they're dead and their work is finite!) and doing as much as you can to help out your fellow artists who have yet to realize true stability.  The stability that allows you to sleep comfortably at night, take care of your loved ones and, of course, gather those tools you need to help you put forth the best work...the best art...you're capable of.  A solid shelter needs a foundation before walls, walls before roof.  It takes work...and yes, I'm reminding myself as much as I am you as I write that! 

Once you reach the point of relaxing comfortably with your own progress you really start to grow.  It amazed me.  Even going back and looking at some of your earliest material, your eye has grown to be far more discerning...far more realistic; it sees much more potential in pieces that your novice eye couldn't see due to its own clouded idealism.  "It isn't worth $250k, so it isn't worth anything".  Yeah.  I felt really stupid when I stepped back into those shoes, and it strikes me as painfully laughable.  Uh, I am 45.  Have I learned nothing yet?  Not like this I haven't!  Great...I snorted at myself just typing that.  BRB...need some TP...yuk. 

Every snowflake is different, and they're all magical in their own unique way.  Certain patterns will appeal to some more than others, but every single one is appreciated.  Maybe there is a stage during creation that makes one stand out...a bit of moisture on a tiny grain of dust high up in the atmosphere.  Maybe it is when it is frozen solid and symmetrical in its maturity...and stuck to a berry that it is most majestic.  Or maybe when it starts to melt...an oddly uneven but still captivating scene.

Every photograph is different.  It is not possible for you to get the exact same image twice.  Not using a strip of film, not a digital sensor, not a living retina.  Depending on how deeply you wish to delve into this argument, I'll argue right down to the impurities in the silicon in the sensor, the silver in the film or the blood vessels in an eye.  There are, of course, limits to details discernible by the viewer's eye, but then, with respect to photography, it becomes a question of framing, settings, and artistic taste.  I fantasize about lining up one hundred photographers, all ages, all experience levels...each with their own favorite equipment and shooting the Tetons.  I don't know why the Tetons.  It is just the way that fantasy materialized so I stick with it.  Ultimately anywhere would be great.  Everyone would frame up a subject slightly differently.  Some would prefer refreshingly light and others moody and dark.  Some would make radical changes in post, some wouldn't retouch it at all.  Some would saturate color, some would convert to B&W.  Someday I might try to organize something like this.  The One Hundred.  Give or take.  We're all busy and I wouldn't want to exclude anyone, ever.  You get the idea.  ;o)  Then we put everyone's work in a gallery, one shot each that they themselves choose to bring forth, open to the public and see which visitors like what.  Vote.  Sure, some are going to feel left out because a few invariably will have more of an eye that resonates with more people with that wonderful mountain range...but what happens when you do another shoot with the stars?  A dragonfly?  A pair of twin, blonde, sibling children?  A puppy at play?  A rose?  A rock?  A bottle of Jack?  And if a bottle of Jack, where is it? 

In my pursuit of great artwork (artwork...art-work...it is amazing how things hit you differently and when) with respect to photography, the realization that pictures are like snowflakes helped me immensely, even if only on a philosophical note.  I feel this is where I achieved a balance of my own, something I could progress with.  I had finally learned patience with myself.  I understood...I 'got it'.  Better yet, I 'got' a new facet of myself.  Starting to walk a different kind of talk.  And as many have said thousands of times over, it is about the process, the exploration, the journey.  A different stride, and you can't talk your way down a path.

Yet...? 



©2014 Michael Pichahchy

The Occasional Illusion

'The Occasional Illusion' seemed a fitting offshoot of my original blog 'The Occasional Delusion', intended to make available thoughts regarding specifically my interest in the field of Photography and hopefully a few of my images.  Illusions?  Or, at least, they might be illusions...hopefully some might be led to question whether what they're seeing is actually real. What a camera's sensor catches is certainly always up for debate, but then Mother Nature is always making images available to our eyes that defy belief.  All we can do is stare in wonder.  I'll feel fortunate to capture something awe-inspiring to share.  

Put a different way, in a more self-deprecating sense (which is typically my nature as I abhor the idea of taking myself too seriously), I might allow myself the occasional illusion that I have generated an image others might actually enjoy. 



© 2014 Michael Pichahchy

A little evolution of my interest in photography

Imagery holds a special place for all of us in some fashion, however you wish to capture it to memory; for enjoyment and likely as inspiration for creation within our own imaginations.  Painting, drawing, photography, writing to the mind's eye.  Each of us has entertained partaking in one or more of these at some point and hopefully explored them all.  We've certainly loved and even coveted the work of many others, and continue to. 

Even being raised rather poor we'd always had access to pens, paints, paper and words.  Just as I was stepping into my teen years my mom discovered the means pick up a couple of Pentax K1000 cameras for my younger sister and I to play with.  It is unfortunate that I don't recall either of us taking to them, mostly because we couldn't afford the extended cost of film and even less the ability to get any film developed.  I tinkered but nothing beyond a few of the technical aspects, and then only sparsely.  I do recall an affinity for the noise of that mechanical shutter.  Don't we all...?  It did eventually see a few of my images but no lasting relationship was built and it fell by the wayside.  It was eventually given to a friend as I trimmed belongings to allow for what would be a very gypsy-like college education. 

That said, it did contribute to lasting impressions and curiosity, though I doubt any differently on me than on anyone else.  Again, I have this notion that everyone harbors at the very least a bit of passion to want to take a good picture.  A great photograph.  A true work of art, however we choose to define it.  Not just that netted memory but much more; something others will realize a true emotional connection to.  For the serious professional or artist, something people will be willing to pay serious money for.  Shuffled (shuttered?) to the back of my mind for later exploration, when I had the time, the energy, and, most importantly, the budget.  Entry back then was difficult and remained that way for quite a while, at least in terms of my financial ability during those times.  I did manage a few disposables at times, even while living in Brazil for two years in the mid-90s. 


Enter 2001.  ish.  Well-paying career, paid-for automobile, living with friends, saving for a house and the like.  A bit of expendable income to explore with.  As is my nature, I recall doing a monumental amount of research.  I've always sought out bang-for buck combined with solid futureproofing.  To give you an idea, I had bought a 1994 Jeep Grand Cherokee even though I had the budget for a new BMW convertible (that was a very satisfying validation that I would later read about in 'The Millionaire Next Door', by the way).  I wanted to invest in a good, stable, well-designed camera built by a reputable company.  Having what I deemed necessary, I was finally exploring a creative outlet once more.  I was investing a lot financially and emotionally.  I expected to adventure, learn, create, enjoy, share.  I expected a few kinks but ultimately a lasting relationship.  I had looked forward to this day for a rather long time. 

So, after months of research, I landed on about a $1300 investment in Nikon's Coolpix 775 (I plan on looking back to those old specs here in a bit as I just now recalled what I had picked up, strangely).  I recall the day I bought it in Bellevue, complete with accessories, bag, etc.  I also recall a date I went on that night but I'll leave that alone.  It was a good day.  A great day!

But, beyond that day, one of those relationships would fail abysmally.  I won't go into too much detail than to say I had experienced a problem, then with the help of the growing community on the Internet I found many others experiencing the same said problem, and we all suffered Nikon's complete and utter failure at providing any kind of assistance or service to us, let alone acknowledge that there was any kind of problem to begin with.  Now, I, like so many others, am an extremely technical person, in many ways, complete with an experienced, scientific ability to troubleshoot a problem, question or challenge to a logical conclusion.  Not to mention being one of those nutty, geeky types who actually reads manuals.  It was a design flaw of Nikon's to begin with, and an undocumented one at that, where if you made the mistake of turning on the camera with the lens cap on (we all know those lenses that automagically extend when powered up, right?) it would clack a few times, screw something up in the software's ability to communicate with hardware and would forever screw up the exposure.  Many months of headache and frustration later I gave up trying to get Nikon to warranty this failed camera.  I was told I could pay to have it fixed.  Uhm...no.  I'll burn this bridge.  Thanks, I'm done.

And I was. I'm not one to hold a grudge.  Honestly, thankfully...I cannot recall another, beyond one annoying kid in grade school who threw a rock at me (yup, for no reason at all) who I festered over for a few weeks.  Somewhere in the years thereafter I picked up an el-cheapo Panasonic Lumix something-or-other as well as another similar Olympus for my mom to play with.  I recorded a few things but I never bothered to attempt any real creativity.

 2012.  Suffice it to say that in a flash (lol, yeah...no pun intended, then I realized I couldn't escape it) I met someone new and fantastic who had a completely (enter ridiculous number of silver half-dollar adjectives here!!!   ...shit, make them Krugerrand-worthy) passion for photography.  And a great many other things.  We're still in a relationship today, I might add, but I'll not digress.  I was salivating for something new to throw myself into given the number of wayward facets I was facing in my life at that time.  Perfect storm, meet mid-life-crisis cum-enlightenment. Thy name is Grace.  HSST! 

November 2013.  We'd been together over a year.  Funny how someone oh-so-close can soften those old callouses, isn't it?  Long story short, even being the forgiving person I am known to be, I was not immediately willing to forgive Nikon.  She had completely re-fired that blast furnace's worth of desire for creative outlet in me and I had directed it squarely at that which had managed to elude me (or I it) for so long.  I closed up my previous life, all the while exploring how I was going to delve into these new passions.  Writing, imagery, the combination of the two?  Photography had always made sense for a lot of reasons, shared passion, technical curiosity and creative outlet notwithstanding.  Whether I had any innate ability remains to be seen and is always up for debate.  But...on the 22nd I bought Grace a new Nikon D7100 so she had something new to take on the heavier-lifting needed for her academic career and I took over her beloved D3100 (Patrick) with which to start yet again.  I haven't looked back. 

More a bit later!  And yes, I've forgiven Nikon, obviously.  I even have a D800E and a few more lenses.  More on that later.   ;o)



© 2014 Michael Pichahchy