Slow Photography

Two Gods Jim Austin Jimages " When we blindly adopt a religion, a political system, a literary dogma, we become automatons. We cease to grow."   ~   Anais Nin The truths we hold as self-evident can make us strong. Yet, we can easily carry them to extremes. When our truths about our creative process emerge from darker places, they may hinder our curiosity. To open our vision to other novel vistas, we may need to let go of what we hold tight. In an old Anglican church, shadow and sunlight patterns danced on a wall around the decaying windows. Clouds floated across the sun. I wondered if the essence of this illumination could be expressed in a picture.  Watching these rays of light and shadows move across the wall, I slowed  down to steady my mind and the camera. Colors were vivid. Greens and yellows emerged from the darker hues. I noticed the broken shutter with vines growing in, as if through an eye. Mother nature came in one tendril at a time, throug

Cowbells clanged. Drums boomed. Fancy dancers whirled and danced in ways that would be the envy of Shiva. The dancing went on all night on Bay Street in Nassau . Flash on camera stopped the action. Junkanoo is quintessentially Bahamian. The festival is an excellent opportunity to do Slow Photography, to take time with exposure and focus, because its shooting in the dark.  

Hi. I'm a photo. Got an invite for your imagination. I been 'round a long time, but I don't claim any hold on the truth. Never mind belief either, 'cause I only want you to imagine. Set your imagination on fire, and your compassion will burn brightly too. OK?  Now why do I say this? Well, there's a rumor going round. People are saying that I, as a photograph, must always tell the truth. I say, sure, in some countries, that makes sense. That land called journalism, and that nation that's called foresics, sure, my brothers need to be documents. But hey, I am an artistic girl. I am about imagination, and possibility. I'm for those folks who always want a good story more than the true details.    That's why I am a Polaroid. Just one frame. To appreciate me, you gotta use your imagination. 

I'll publish my book on Slow Photography in 2018. Here is a n excerpt from the first chapter, Winter: Winter The Sky Clock The full "Wolf Moon" over the ocean. Waves caress its light. The photograph is mute to many, but speaks to those who have sailed and inhaled the moon lit sea in winter, remindful of past sorrows and joys. It speaks to the soul in whispers, saying softly "there is only now."  Time melts away when we sail. Raising the canvas to the weather, or watching dolphin play off the bow, I rest in the present. Without sounds of traffic, and with no human sounds, life at sea becomes the timeless present. This teaches a lesson. Live by the sky clock, there is only now. Eons before the age of Egyptian, Mayan, and Indus River monuments of time we kept time differently. Long before the first Chinese water clock, we kept time with sky clocks. They let us rest in the present.  This book is about being fully present with the e

Waves. From a Fine Art Series called NINE . The Slow Photo  movement is growing. It appeals to thinking, mindful photographers.  It's expanding because  we are growing tired of a   speed-obsessed photography culture.  When was the last time you took pure pleasure in letting go of time? Our solution lies in our thinking. Thinking deliberately with a thoughtful approach to making photographs lets us explore consciousness, in a way that can not be measured or purchased.  As camera  sensors have changed radically in their design, the way a camera  absorbs light has changed. Originally, this was a chemical process that grew from bitumen of Judea, to calotype, to Daguerreotype, to glass plate and cellulose. Only recently have we had access to digital sensors. The artful question for all our warp-speed tech   is this: are we making better images? I believe we c an practice   Slow Photography with any camera ( iPhone to  8 x 10 and up) because, how we expr

In the winter, afternoon suj beams through the bow of a shipwreck on Cat Island, Bahamas. "A Work in Progress". A wrench on the bow exterior of the wreck.  Engine Room corrosion over several decades makes the steel turn to hues of white, brown and blue. SHIPWRECK on CAT ISLAND Slow photography is a daily practice. Part of the process is recognizing the oneness of all things, and letting go of perfection. Another aspect recognizes that increasing speed does not help us create quality. Quality arises from attention and being prepared. For example, I take a camera each time we go on a bike trip. I take only one lens. There is no need to hurry when out in the wilds. Biking along the banks of Cat Island, we saw an unexpected sight where Armbrister Creek meets the Bahama banks. Looking at the clear water, rays and baby sharks were visible, swimming in the shallows. In the mangroves, alongside the creek, calls rang out from nesting songbirds. Then, turning to th

"Hey, ain't it good to know, you've got a friend"       ~ Carole King " Friends are the siblings God never gave us."  ~ Mencius A merlin flies over the Wakodahatchee Wetlands near Boca Raton, Florida, USA. One warm December day, three of us strolled the boardwalk of the South-Florida wetlands known for its diverse bird life. Dark grey gators, orange iguanas and pure white herons were at home in Wakodahatchee. Their bright hues drew our eyes and lenses. A banded raptor flew overhead and my friend looked it up in his bird book. It was a small, fierce raptor called a Merlin. Purple gallinule photograph Courtesy Glenn Kulbako www.kulbakophoto.com  Iguanas are arboreal, and a five foot long male iguana can climb trees as quickly and smoothly as it walks on the ground, photograph courtesy Glenn Kulbako http://www.kulbakophoto.com. Below the boardwalk, a pair of purple gallinules were feeding. They hacked away at the roots