Studio on a Shoestring» travel

Down by the Sea Shore

deborahwolfe — Mon, 02 Nov 2009 12:00:04 +0000

Or, He Says She Says She Sells Seashells Down by the Seashore

Have you ever had one of those inspired moments, where you realize you don’t want to be where you are for another second? Just such a feeling overwhelmed us last week. After days and days on end of rain and gloom, Atlanta was feeling rather oppressive. So, just like that, we decamped to our favorite spot on the Gulf of Mexico ~ Santa Rosa Island.

I cannot remember the last time I felt so peaceful and calm. The weather was perfection, the ocean breezes sublime, the light delicious and the colors mesmerizing.

We stayed in our favorite hotel with it’s glorious view of the gulf. We even attempted, in between beach walking and oyster eating, to do a bit of work. And speaking of oyster eating, I had NO idea I had such capacity for EATING OYSTERS. Oh. My. God. Oysters every day. Twice a day. Oysters Rockefeller, Cajun, Parmesan, Fried, Steamed, Baked. On a single day I consumed no less than two and a half dozen oysters. Mmmmmm. Did you know that Apalachicola Oysters are listed on the official Food of the Gods Guide to All Things Good? Mmmmmm. Pardon me while I wipe the drool off my chin.

Can I tell you how scandalously decadent it feels to have a view like this while you’re working?

I think my favorite part of the trip was how few of the other humans were there. Solitude is hard to come by sometimes. We fell asleep every night to the sound of the surf and woke at sunrise each morning. We walked on the beach every evening and watched the sunset.

I decided leave my Nikon D700 at home, and only brought instead my Canon PowerShot A590. I love that little jewel. I’ve figured out how to rock it’s wide angle lens by tilting it off axis and paying attention to the LCD.

There are beautiful places all over the world, but I find it hard to believe any could be more beautiful than America’s own land of snow white beaches on the gulf side of Florida.

I’m sitting here smiling as I remember the sound of the breeze whispering through the sea oats. It was a perfect get away, with not one single thing amiss. We returned to Atlanta feeling greatly restored in body and spirit.

I’ll conclude with my grandmother’s sharp words to all of us wild and unruly grandchildren:

“Now git out from under my feet and go outside and play. And quit slammin’ that damned screen door!”

If you’re interested in shooting with wide angle lenses, check out this post:

Wide Angle Lenses Are for Portraits Too – Tutorial

Freedom

deborahwolfe — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 12:00:50 +0000

Or, Follow the Yellow Brick Road

This is one of my favorite images from my tenure in New Mexico. When I’m feeling particularly squeezed by life’s seemingly impossible demands, I find myself seeking this image out in my archives. For me, it represents complete freedom.

Unexpected Gifts

deborahwolfe — Wed, 07 Oct 2009 12:00:12 +0000

Or, Wake Up ~ Your Life is Calling

View from ‘my’ bedroom window at my parent’s house, 6:30 am Saturday October 3, 2009. Sometimes it pays to wake up early. What a gift. What a surprise. I love this little patch of heaven on earth. You can HEAR the breeze through the trees and the tall grass murmuring. It is such a respite from the intensity of the city. I want this life. It doesn’t have to be in exactly this place, but I want this life.

The American West Through the Lens of a Point and Shoot

deborahwolfe — Mon, 28 Sep 2009 12:00:39 +0000

Or, How a Cheap Camera and a Thousand Dollars Worth of Software Can Work For You

My parents are retired, but not retiring. As a matter of fact, they’ve begun to range far and wide. Over this past summer, they set off on what I’ve begun to refer to as their Grand Adventure. They recently purchased a gigantic ‘Monster Bus’, a sort of land yacht RV thing, the type of thing you might see certain rock stars ensconced in. My mother had never seen the great American west or southwest and it had been decades since my father had. They set off on a 45 day ‘walk about’, following the setting sun.

My mother took a little point and shoot with her, to document their adventures. The images in this post were taken mostly by my mother, Patricia Sims. A few were taken by my father, Wayne Sims. My mother is an incredibly creative individual who has tried her hand successfully at a great many endeavors. Among other things, she has:

Built a beautiful field stone patio, single handedly
Learned to sew and applique’ beautiful garments
Taught herself to crochet and created lovely sweaters, afghans etc
Created incredibly intricate and unique art with decoupage
Created lovely art with gathered and dried lichens, bark, flowers, seed pods etc
Painted truly wonderful oil paintings of a great many subjects
Created the MOST fabulous outdoor courtyard with lush greenery and burbling fountain
Is a fabulous cook with an innate understanding of how to prepare wild game

Don’t tell anybody…..most especially her…..but I think my mother is an artist.

My mother has never taken a photography class, but has become a keen observer of what I do : ) I gotta say, she’s been a great ‘student’ and has a fantastic eye. She emailed all these images to me, just to share. They came directly out of her camera and were all rather ‘flat’. I couldn’t resist taking them into Lightroom and doing that voodoo that I do. Then I exported them to Photoshop and also ran some ‘actions’ on a few of them. Enjoy! This first one was taken through the moving RV window, hence the ‘grid’ effect.

Home is Where the Mom Is

deborahwolfe — Wed, 09 Sep 2009 12:00:10 +0000

Or, No Really – Home is Where the Mom Is

My family is going through a bit of a rough patch right now. Nothing I care to go into on the world wide web, but it is painful enough for us to have circled the wagons and drawn closer to each other. This particular passage in life has turned my thoughts to home and hearth. Odd, isn’t it, how many of us most often think of home as ‘Mom’s’ place? I mean, Daddy lives there too. Always has. But really though, truth be told, it’s Mother’s house.

When I go home to visit my parents, I’m going home to Mama. So many of my memories around home evoke savory cooking aromas and comforting things; creamy chicken and dumplings, down comforters, the drone of the television and the comings and goings of old family friends and neighbors. In looking at these images, I realize so much of my photography is about ‘feelings’. I’m always trying to show visually what I feel emotionally. All of these photographs were taken on my last visit home. Welcome to my homage to the rich environment of my mother’s world. Home.

Photography Tour of Cemeteries

deborahwolfe — Fri, 14 Aug 2009 12:00:35 +0000

Or, The Dead Help us Know We’re Alive

On a recent trip to Boone, North Caroline, we stumbled upon two very old cemeteries. There is something about finding an old gravestone from someone who has already been in the ground for 131 years, that just puts you right in your place. We get to thinking that we and our troubles, causes and concerns are so important. And then, BAM! You realize that none of it will matter in 100 years. Kind of puts it all into perspective.

When I wander through cemeteries I try to imagine the lives that people might have lived. Sometimes I try to put together a story of what might have happened in certain families.

For example, this 14 year old girl died in 1950, before the technology was there to put a photograph on a ceramic tile. Yet, years after her passing, someone loved her enough to come back to her grave and put a beautiful photograph of her on the headstone.

At least Gail Hagie has a grave marker. Many of the graves have only plain standing stones, without inscriptions of any kind. They make me think of Stonehenge. All we know is that someone, surely once loved by another, is buried beneath that spot.

I realize it was the tradition of the time, but it always bothers me to find headstones for women that either say Mrs. What’s His Name or simply ‘wife’. Gone. Vanished. Who were they? I know I am writing from my own, post feminist, staunchly INDIVIDUAL perspective, but my god, did they not deserve to at least have their very own NAME written on their grave marker? I am also aware that many of those very same women would not have thought it odd. Seems a shame.

This young man, a victim of the war in Iraq, was outlived by his own father, who managed to survive WWII. They were buried side by side. How it must have galled the father to have to put his son in the ground before himself. I found the words on his headstone oddly comforting. No words about ‘god’ or ‘country’. Just simple faith in the earth.

I suppose there are far worse fates than to live out your life in a close knit, self reliant mountain community and to sleep throughout eternity in a literal earthly paradise.

High on a Mountain Top

deborahwolfe — Thu, 30 Jul 2009 12:00:36 +0000

Or, Seeing Wildlife Other than Street Hustlers and Junkies is a Good Thing

I know I mentioned it before, that we live in the heart of urban Midtown, Atlanta. I can honestly say I am glad to have had this experience.

When I was younger, oh so much younger, I used to daydream about all the different ways I wanted to experience living. One of them was that fantasy of living right in the heart of a vibrant city, wherein I would walk right down to the street and skip happily along, just like Marlo Thomas in That Girl. I’d stroll past fresh flower vendors, shop at my local corner grocer, frequent my neighborhood coffee shop slash bookstore and bump into friends, neighbors and acquaintances all along the way, as I made my way to a fabulous city park for a bench with a view. Hmmmm…..don’t forget the baguette and fragrant cheese either.

Well, there have certainly been days like those. But I am a country girl at heart. I grew up in the heart of the deep south, in rural north Alabama amid rolling hills and farm land. I have been living in or near a big city for far too long. I am ready for a change. I keep hearing the call towards western North Carolina, up in the hills.

So, we keep taking little mini-vacations and driving up to the mountains. This past weekend we stayed up in Boone, North Carolina, in a wonderful little house with a wrap around deck. We did a lot of exploring, but right now I just want to focus on the cabin experience, where in we sat at a charming bistro table and sipped hot coffee:

I found a tub of plastic toys stashed under the coffee table and couldn’t resist amusing myself while sipping my coffee in the dappled light.

What’s I’m saying is, I’d like to see A LOT more of this:

Before I see this:

Speaking of which, we spent a wonderful afternoon wandering through two different and really old cemeteries while in the mountains. I’ll be posting more about that experience later.

Travel Photography – Bangkok, Thailand

deborahwolfe — Wed, 15 Jul 2009 12:00:41 +0000

Mementos from a lovely afternoon in Bangkok

I traveled to Bangkok, Thailand in May of 2009 for surgery. I am one of the growing number of Americans that are now ‘self pay’, which is a euphemistic way of saying I am uninsured. I will not go into the details of my surgery, other than to say I had a very positive medical experience in a state-of-the-art hospital for a fraction of the cost in America. That includes the round trip airfare for TWO, a private hospital room with a bed for my traveling companion, AND a 2 week stay in a 5 star hotel to recuperate before the journey home.

These are a few of the shots I was able to take on my limited post surgery ‘walk abouts’.