Sun pressing through

The sun waits for no one. My plan was to paint today. However, I awake to a frosty cool soft winter-blue sky with the sun pressing its way through the firs. We have had rain and fog for days. Change of plan. I shall be devouring a late breakfast and then out trek around with camera over my shoulder. (First figuring out why my camera won’t download today’s image, leaving me to use a photo from about the same time of year and day from last season – we have no snow today.)

View full resolution image here.

[updated 11:58 am adding this morning’s image that has now download after much tinkering]

View full resolution here.

Sprout Question: When are you most inspired to seize the moment?

© 2010 Terrill Welch, All rights reserved.

Liberal usage granted with written permission. See “About” for details.

Purchase photography at http://www.redbubble.com/people/terrillwelch

Creative Potager – where imagination rules. Be inspired.

Surprised Oil Painting

My photo shoot yesterday produced mixed results in the low and uneven afternoon light. However, sitting quietly with one of the images, during the editing process, lead me down an interesting path. After several turns, a shoreline photo is transformed  into a black and white oil painting of Bennett Bay on Mayne Island.

View the full resolution of Bennett Bay Mayne Island  here.

When we are prepared to be surprised and allow an image to call us forward, not just in the beginning of the creative process but all the way to the end, sometimes magic happens. I almost through this original photo image away even though I liked the composition because the mood was different than I wanted. But I just couldn’t get myself to press the delete button and I started to play with the image instead. First, I made the image black and white (as it was almost there already). Then I used a simple program to change it into an oil painting – nothing complicated, just editing tools I had at hand. With a bit more fine tuning, I now have an image that is no longer “really” a photo or ‘really” an oil painting. Setting these judgments aside – I am happy with the end results.

Sprout Question: What creative process might you try if you set your initial judgment about what is legitimate “creative work” aside?

© 2010 Terrill Welch, All rights reserved.

Liberal usage granted with written permission. See “About” for details.

Purchase photography at http://www.redbubble.com/people/terrillwelch

Creative Potager – where imagination rules. Be inspired.

A gown remembered: Beginning

My work, my oeuvre: in the peripheral shadows, too remote for distress, yet relentlessly haunting me. I remember small children wrapped in warmth and tucked away from the soft sounds of a mop I swished across the floor. I knew that I should sleep. The thought of a pristine surface for their bare feet to scuttle across was too hard to resist. My paid work day is done, yet I continued feverishly while my limbs ached with fatigue. These days too are like that. I wrestle each minute of each hour to give me more than it has to offer. I grab between care-giving and caring and wolf down the seconds with a phone call to a colleague, a note of thank you for a review of my book, and draft a response to a request for an article. With blessings duly given, I write a paragraph. A paragraph that is like slipping on an evening gown without undergarments, standing on bare toes, and swirling the hem once in front of the long mirror. Then hastily letting it drop around my ankles, stepping out, and hanging it with care before starting another load of laundry.

I am not begrudging or complaining or martyring my efforts. Rather, it is a battle of sorts – a war with the second-hand as it sashays around the clock’s surface, indifferent to the multiplicity of my love. I can’t stand the second-hand’s smugness. I nimbly waltz past as it releases one of its never-ending ticks. I turn on it. My piercing stare slices each second in three. Yes three. Then I coax my shadowy work-self out of the remote corners where she marauds beyond the reach of the second-hand. She needs to know that those she loves are cared for – out of danger, thriving. Then she will come on stage and dance until sweat glistens and streams in rivulets, more salt-laden and plentiful than tears. With quick, sure steps she does not wait for the music – every tired muscle, scar and softness of skin giving to you in her presence.

Sprout Question: What keeps your fingers to the keyboard, on the shutter button or picking up the paint brush?

© 2009 Terrill Welch, All rights reserved.

Creative Potager – where imagination rules. Be inspired.