A Dog Has Her Day

Once there was a dog named Sara Jane.  She was old, very old - some said she had outlived her usefulness.  Occasionally she thought so too.  She knew she was falling apart, some parts faster than others, but she tried to be brave. 

One day her family brought home a puppy.  The puppy was untrained, loud and very active.  Sara tried to ignore the newcomer, but it wasn't easy.  That puppy was a pest.  She wanted to play all the time, and got all sorts of new toys to play with.   Her favorite game was to chew on Sara, when all Sara wanted to do was sleep.

The puppy was quick.  If there was a pot to lick, she always got there first.  That made Sara sad, but there wasn't much she could do.  One day she noticed a new toy, a nice fresh rawhide.  Rawhides were Sara's favorite. This was a big one, so big that the puppy could gnaw on it for hours and barely make a dent.  Sara wanted that rawhide.  She would finish it in ten minutes.

When the family wasn't looking, Sara picked the rawhide up. She held it in her mouth.  It hung out the side, like a cigar.  She looked funny.  She wanted to take it away and eat it up, but she always thought about it too long.  Her Mom took it away every time.  No, Sara, that belongs to the puppy. It will get stuck in your throat.

Sara tried again.  Over and over she tried, for about a week, but someone always caught her.

Finally, she succeeded!  She took the rawhide into her room and chewed on it happily for about ten minutes.  There wasn't much left after that.  It looked awful, like a long pink tongue sticking out of her mouth, but that didn't matter.  It was delicious! 

Her Dad was looking for the rawhide.  He came into Sara's room and saw the long pink thing hanging from her lips.  Her Dad thought it was her tongue.  He yelled - he thought Sara was finished.  He was wrong. 

Sara felt good.  The rest of the treat went in the garbage, but she could still taste it.

Puppy, shmuppy!

 

Of Men And Machines

The big night has come and gone – I saw Lindsey Buckingham in concert! Here is my first music review – I’ve always wanted to write one, and since this is my blog I get to do just that.

THOSE WHO ARE HERE FOR PHOTOGRAPHY CAN SKIP THIS POST.

This was a sold out show, full of primarily middle aged, enraptured fans. Lindsey certainly gave them their money's worth, playing a 2 hour set of the old and the new.

I left with mixed feelings. Obviously I had built this concert up so high that no human could possibly fulfill expectations. It was great to finally see this man live, something I’ve looked forward to for fifteen years!

Lindsey’s new work is excellent, leaning heavily on a classically influenced picking style that is elaborate and intense. Each track from his latest album, ‘Seeds We Sow’, is a masterpiece of sparkling instruments and distinctive vocals.

He has already completed several concert dates, and has 21 more before the tour ends in December. Unfortunately, the rigors of the road are taking their toll on my guitar hero.

Early in the set Lindsey was shaking out his hand after each song. He appeared to experience discomfort from the heavy picking, and his forays into that captivating style were limited. His voice was also affected; the nuances of the vocals shadowed by overstretching and overuse.

I would have been thrilled to hear all acoustic material, but this was not to be. Lindsey and his crack band played several Fleetwood Mac songs, and the crowd loved it. These songs were clearly the highlight of their evening, and their reason for attending. It made me wonder, why didn’t these people just buy a Fleetwood Mac ticket?

Lindsey Buckingham is no fool – to fill concert halls he must keep his fans happy. However these ‘fans’ do him no favour if they only want to hear music that peaked nearly 30 years ago. This indicates scant appreciation for his formidable regenerative powers and ongoing artistic growth.

What seems to matter most to Lindsey Buckingham is his ‘Little Machine’ - the creative force that has inspired him to produce three solo albums in five years. He describes ‘Seeds We Sow’ as ‘the best work I’ve ever done’. His words are full of excitement and joy.

It would be wonderful if more of us shared his enthusiasm.

Here's a track from 'Seeds We Sow', performed in Los Angeles last April. Enjoy!

WE NOW RETURN YOU TO OUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED PROGRAMMING.

Copyright 2011, Kathy Neudorf

Hot Off The Press!

Read my comment about photographic art, published in the Robert Genn Twice Weekly Newsletter:

Robert Genn's original post:

TUNE UP -- October 2, 2009

Dear Artist,

Where I live, the spiders come out in autumn. They're in my face when I bend to turn on the garden hose. Going about their sky-harvest and their devious mating-games, they spread their webs across my larger windows. In the nearby forest there's a surprise of mushrooms. The longer, darker nights bring the owl's call closer. Even by day the night birds are more active, silently moving between the tall cedars.

When painters take their paints to the forest, they feel this presence. While the hiker, jogger and even the photographer can get some of the benefit, the richest spirit is released to the ones who sit in a spot for some time. Fitting in and adapting to the scene, we become part of nature's furnishings. Alone, or with a quiet friend, with simple, timeless tools and procedures, we honour the privilege. Consistently, the surroundings that attracted us in the first place give up more secrets as we sit.

Best regards,

Robert

My Comment:

PHOTOGRAPHERS GET JOY TOO

by Kathy Neudorf, Langley, BC, Canada

I am a formally trained painter who now makes photographs. During my schooling, my 14 years as a painter, and my transition into photography, I frequently encountered the view that photography is not art, and by association, photographers are not artists. Some think we just point, and shoot, and the camera does it all. Not so.

When out with my camera, the hours melt into minutes. I frequently spend extended periods at a single location, taking picture after picture, moving this way and that, experimenting with setting after setting. This is a whole body experience - sometimes I'm perched on a tree limb, other times I'm on my belly.

Do I feel connected to my subject? Absolutely. Do I slip from the present into the subconscious, intuitive state that brings forth true creativity? Without question. Not surprisingly, I felt this way about painting too. Is my photography art? I believe so. It's certainly every bit as satisfying as brushes and paint.

Another reader writes:

From: Linda Bishop -- Oct 06, 2009

Just to let you know Kathy, that I think you are absolutely an artist. People who just point and shoot ( that would be me) are not photographers. Learning how your tool works and creating images that otherwise could never exist in reality is a true art. As a painter and someone who uses the camera only to try and record the image for later use, I can truly appreciate your chosen medium as I find it very difficult to even take a decent photo with my own camera. All the best to you.


Thank you, Linda. GO PHOTOGRAPHERS!