oh what a tangled web we weave

spirogiraWebbing hung at a golf course protecting the boundary of the driving range.

Shot with my converted infrared camera, then distorted and twirled in Photoshop.

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Life is a Highway…

riding the wave2

Life’s like a road that you travel on
There’s one day here and the next day gone
Sometimes you bend, sometimes you stand
Sometimes you turn your back to the wind

There’s a world outside every darkened door
Where blues won’t haunt you anymore
Where the brave are free and lovers soar
Come ride with me to the distant shore

We won’t hesitate
To break down the garden gate
There’s not much time left today

{Chorus:}
Life is a highway
I wanna ride it all night long
If you’re going my way
I wanna drive it all night long

Through all these cities and all these towns
It’s in my blood and it’s all around
I love you now like I loved you then
This is the road and these are the hands
From Mozambique to those Memphis nights
The Khyber Pass to Vancouver’s lights

Knock me down, and back up again
You’re in my blood
I’m not a lonely man

There’s no load I can’t hold
Road so rough, this I know
I’ll be there when the light comes in
Just tell ’em we’re survivors

{Chorus:}
Life is a highway
I wanna ride it all night long
If you’re going my way
I wanna drive it all night long (all night long)

(Gimme, gimme, gimme, gimme, yeah! )

{Chorus:}
Life is a highway
I wanna ride it all night long (Mmmm, Yeah! )

If you’re going my way (your going my way)
I wanna drive it all night long (all night long)

There was a distance between you and I(between you and I)
A misunderstanding once
But now we look it in the eye
Ooooohh
Mmmm yea!

There ain’t no load that I can’t hold
A road so rough, this I know
I’ll be there when the light comes in
Tell ’em we’re survivors

{Chorus:}
Life is a highway
I wanna ride it all night long (All night long! Yeah Yeah! )
If you’re goin’ my way
I wanna drive it all night long

(Gimme, gimme, gimme
Gimme, gimme, yeah! )

{Chorus:}
Life is a highway (Life is a highway! )
I wanna ride it all night long (Woo Woo Wooo! Yeah! )
If You’re going my way (your going my way)
I wanna drive it all night long (all night long yeah! )

Ah gimme, gimme, gimme, gimme, gimme, gimme, yeah! )
Life is a highway
I wanna ride it all night long
Yea I’m gonna ride it all night long baby
If you’re goin’ my way
I wanna drive it all night long

“Life is a Highway” written by Tom Cochrane; covered by Rascal Flatts for the “Cars’ soundtrack; as well as by Chris LeDoux and Jerry Jeff Walker.

*Image of highway taken with my infrared camera (through moving car window); and later filterized in Photoshop using the ‘distort”, “twirl” features.

Into the Quiet

quietfeeder

Infrared image; handheld, Canon G10 converted camera.

The Strange Ones

1928085-8d94f9104ae025127cff7b0a317cf62e

<div style=”text-align:left; width:450px”><div style=”display:block;”><a href=”http://www.blurb.com/b/1776448-the-strange-ones-photos-by-lee-spangler-she-thinks?ce=blurb_ew&utm_source=widget&#8221; target=”_blank” style=”margin:12px 3px;”>the strange ones. photos by lee spangler (she thinks they’re cool)</a> | <a href=”http://www.blurb.com/landing_pages/bookshow?ce=blurb_ew&utm_source=widget&#8221; target=”_blank” style=”margin:12px 3px;”>Make Your Own Book</a></div></div>

Books are wonderful.

Even though I’m a huge Kindle fan (I’m on my third version already) there’s just something nice about holding an actual, printed book in your hand that you just can’t get from the digital version.

And as a photographer (who’s spent some time in the darkroom), I can really appreciate holding a photograph in my hands as well.  It seems to solidify the effort of what goes into the making of an image.  

I have a cedar chest full of old family photographs. There is such variety in those images – the papers they were printed on, their shapes and sizes, the unique edges, and the chemistry used to print them.  And each comes with its own bit of history printed right on the back.

I suppose boxes of old photographs will soon be a thing of the past.

Digital photographs are great though.  They’re fantastic, actually.  Believe me – I LOVE the technology.  But I worry that all the digitized images made today won’t be compatible with the technology to read them in the future.

Will there be card readers capable of reading antiquated memory cards full of our family memories if we failed to back them up, upload them or download them to the cloud or the sky or whatever it will be called by then? Or will they be like the VHS tapes we have boxed up in the attic?

Its kinda scary when you think about it. Technology changes so fast – all could be lost if we’re not careful!

But I digress.

The reason for this postbooks.  Printed books. Books of words or picture books.  Its such a great way to preserve what ever it is you do.

I’ve made a couple of books of some of my photographs (the first attempt is attached) and I found it really easy and fun to do and relatively inexpensive.  I used ‘Blurb’ and the tutorial on the site is ‘step by step’.  You can make books of your poetry, books of your photography, your art, non-fiction books, fiction books, cookbooks, children’s books, etc., etc. etc.  You’re only limited by your own imagination.

And if all else fails…there will always be books! 

Revisiting Wonderland

frontandcenter

“Alice came to a fork in the road. ‘Which road do I take?’ she asked.
‘Where do you want to go?’ responded the Cheshire Cat.
‘I don’t know,’ Alice answered.
‘Then,’ said the Cat, ‘it doesn’t matter.” –  Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

*Another image in my ‘wonderland’…infrared camera and oil painting filter in CS6.

The air was full of shimmering…

fairywoodpost

I Stood Against the Window

By Rose Fyleman

I stood against the window
And I looked between the bars,
And there were strings of fairies
Hanging from the stars;
Everywhere and everywhere
In shining, swinging chains;
The air was full of shimmering,
Like sunlight when it rains.

They kept on swinging, swinging,
They flung themselves so high
They caught upon the pointed moon
And hung across the sky.
And when I woke next morning,
There still were crowds and crowds
In beautiful bright bunches
All sleeping on the clouds

*I captured these ‘fairies’ descending upon my woods one evening at twilight. I used a slow shutter speed while moving the camera and did some post production work with curves and filters in Photoshop.

Open the Door

doorportrait
Such Singing in the Wild Branches 

It was spring
and finally I heard him
among the first leaves—
then I saw him clutching the limb

in an island of shade
with his red-brown feathers
all trim and neat for the new year.
First, I stood still

and thought of nothing.
Then I began to listen.
Then I was filled with gladness—
and that’s when it happened,

when I seemed to float,
to be, myself, a wing or a tree—
and I began to understand
what the bird was saying,

and the sands in the glass
stopped
for a pure white moment
while gravity sprinkled upward

like rain, rising,
and in fact
it became difficult to tell just what it was that was singing—
it was the thrush for sure, but it seemed

not a single thrush, but himself, and all his brothers,
and also the trees around them,
as well as the gliding, long-tailed clouds
in the perfectly blue sky— all, all of them

were singing.
And, of course, yes, so it seemed,
so was I.
Such soft and solemn and perfect music doesn’t last

for more than a few moments.
It’s one of those magical places wise people
like to talk about.
One of the things they say about it, that is true,

is that, once you’ve been there,
you’re there forever.
Listen, everyone has a chance.
Is it spring, is it morning?

Are there trees near you,
and does your own soul need comforting?
Quick, then— open the door and fly on your heavy feet; the song
may already be drifting away.

— Mary Oliver, “Such Singing in the Wild Branches”