photographer. artist. author. singer. songwriter. musician. teacher. student. humanitarian. visionary. addiction counselor. therapist.

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A Prayer for Vindication

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The Psalms
7

A Prayer for Vindication
Shiggai’on of David, which he sang unto the LORD, concerning the words of Cush the Benjamite.
1 O LORD my God, in thee do I put my trust:

save me from all them that persecute me, and deliver me:
2 lest he tear my soul like a lion,

rending it in pieces, while there is none to deliver.
3 O LORD my God, if I have done this;

if there be iniquity in my hands;
4 if I have rewarded evil unto him that was at peace with me;

(yea, I have delivered him that without cause is mine enemy;)
5 let the enemy persecute my soul, and take it;

yea, let him tread down my life upon the earth,
and lay mine honor in the dust.

Selah.
6 Arise, O LORD, in thine anger,

lift up thyself because of the rage of mine enemies:
and awake for me to the judgment that thou hast commanded.
7 So shall the congregation of the people compass thee about:

for their sakes therefore return thou on high.
8 The LORD shall judge the people:

judge me, O LORD, according to my righteousness,
and according to mine integrity that is in me.

9 Oh let the wickedness of the wicked come to an end;

but establish the just:
for the righteous God trieth the hearts and reins. Rev. 2.23
10 My defense isof God,

which saveth the upright in heart.
11 God judgeth the righteous,

and God is angry with the wicked every day.

12 If he turn not, he will whet his sword;

        
he hath bent his bow, and made it ready.
13  He hath also prepared for him the instruments of death;

        
he ordaineth his arrows against the persecutors.
14 Behold, he travaileth with iniquity,

        
and hath conceived mischief, and brought forth falsehood.
15  He made a pit, and digged it,

        
and is fallen into the ditch which he made.
16 His mischief shall return upon his own head,

        
and his violent dealing shall come down upon his own pate.

17 I will praise the LORD according to his righteousness:

and will sing praise to the name of the LORD most high.

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He made a pit, and digged it,
And has fallen into the pit which he has made.

His mischief shall return upon his own head,
And his violent dealing shall come down upon his own pate. 

************************************

Today I am reminded that God has my back.
He not only Has me in the storm- he IS the storm.

He is my song. My refuge. My fortress and my strength.
And a very present help in times of trouble.

I can go out in the world today- here or there- knowing that He’s watching over me and that He’s got my back!
THAT is a good feeling.

All of these God-haters that are slagging on me?
Eh. They’re just fulfilling the Scriptures. Even the unbelievers are confirming that God’s word is true by their very hatred against it.

God is so awesome.
And yes, I am in great company.

Fire Walker

The reason I write songs to sing is for comfort. Over the years, there have been those- many- God-haters, if you will, that have laid so many snares and traps for me at every turn.

They think they will hurt me by doing so. Alas, what the devil uses for destruction, God uses for CONstruction.

It only sharpens up my testimony- and confirms that my God loves me.

 

He is my rock. My shield.
And my song in the night.

 

Song # 1

I believe

You tried to kill my spirit
You tried to take my soul
You tried to take me down into your
Neverending hole

You tried- to lessen me
You tried to get the best of me

But you can’t

No you can’t, ’cause I believe

Oh I believe in the Father
I believe in the Son
I believe that the battle
Has been Won

Oh I believe in the Father
I believe in the Son
You can’t…touch me
‘Cause I believe

Dropping Classes

 

I’m so disheartened. I haven’t had to drop a class in years. After the car accident, I’ve awaken every morning with a splitting headache- as if I have socks stuffed in my head completely; accompanied by nausea and a stiff neck, along with an aching back, shoulders and now I’m having unidentifiable pain shooting through my eyebrows and the bridge of my nose- that’s a first.

I feel like I’m 75 years old in my body. This is not good.
I can’t focus. I’m disoriented and find myself as if I’m in a daze. I want to do my Algebra but keep finding myself in a stupor, having to push, metally very hard, just to comprehend what the instructor is saying. This was not like this before the accident.

I have no idea what’s happened to me but I know that I didn’t receive the care I needed at Clark memorial Hospital. A cat scan won’t even pick up my cerebral cyst- it takes an MRI for that, and I didn’t receive a post-accident MRI. As far as I’m concerned, I’m still “unseen” regarding medical care.

I can’t believe the nurse actually gave the patient in a wheelchair a cigarette! He was threatening a doctor even!
In the grass, in the front of the hospital, there’s a sign that touts that the hospital is a “tobacco free campus”.

Hmmm….

It grieves me that I’m going to have to drop my Algebra and Public Speaking classes. They’re simply too much for me at the moment- my head is a total wreck. 😦

I wanted to work on my songs too. A CD even perhaps, and, revise my children’s book “Peanut Butter Soup” and start doing school tours, like the one I did at Pine View in New Albany. The mayor and I took turns visiting classes and reading to the children.

Looks like everything is on hold for now until I know what is going on with my head and back.
I’m still having sharp pains shooting through my right ear too, only now, it’s joined by pains in my left ear.

Every day is a battle to simply “go through it”. This accident has really messed me up.

I’ll have to postpone my degree, but I’m still working toward it. I will stay in my Nutrition class, which isn’t too demanding, and my Substance Abuse Treatment Centers class as well. I was scheduled to intern at an actual treatment center beginning next semester. Looks like that will have to wait also.

Cheesecake and a Side of Whiplash

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I was taking the kids out to the Cheesecake Factory over in Louisville when we were rear-ended by a short, bitter woman in the rain. She offered no apology, and tried to diminish the whole incident.

“Well, it’s just a tap,” she said, looking away from the freshly split bumper.

“I have a cyst on my brain stem,” I said. “This is not ‘Just a tap’ to me.”

It’s 3:27 a.m. and we all just got home. Brianna’s sleeping on the couch now. I haven’t been able to record my songs, or work on any photos lately. Algebra is frying my brain! I need a break so badly. Nevertheless, I have to push on.

In the ER, I was addressed by a man in a wheelchair. He was on his way to the dreaded 3rd floor (psych-ward). He’d gotten hooked on bathsalts and Lortabs- he was a mess; jittery and bouncy with decrepit looking eyes. He was rambling incessantly, at my feet- smacking the soles of my feet with his elbow, like we were old chums! He went on and on about how people he’d trusted had stabbed him in the back and messed up his whole life (and so on). I gave him a much-needed lecture on the power of forgiveness and why he needed to do it- regardless.

“You don’t have to hug them, or walk with them, or even talk to them again! Just do the work in your heart. Do it for you- and forgive yourself too. It’ll add years to your life and soften your heart. You need to do that,” I said to him.

“But you don’t understand!” He said. “I’m the laughing stock of my whole town now! They took away my business- my family turned their backs on me,” (Etc. etc.) “You don’t know what kind of hatred I have!”

“Sir,” I said, “20 years ago, the system took away my two little girls because of my evil x-mother-in-law. There were nights that I envisioned my hands around her neck choking the living daylights out of her. I hated her so much. My little girls never came home. I do know what kind of hatred you have. I understand.”

And with that, he lowered his eyes away from me and stared down at the floor. I knew that I had reached him.

“Think about what I’m saying to you. Take these words with you in your life- wherever you go. Contemplate them, and remember what I’m saying, ok? About forgiveness…”

The nurse came and rolled him away.

“Good luck, Sir,” I said.

After I sat there in silence, thinking about what we’d discussed, I realized exactly why I’m doing what I’m doing in school, and why I want so desperately to get my degree. Every report I write, and every Algebra problem I do- it’s another bandage on an old wound. As I told a nurse earlier this evening, “Education is my weapon.”

She actually thanked me for helping her on the floor as we were being discharged.

Interesting night.

Drug Prevention- Executive Summary

If somebody were to have told me (twenty years ago) that I would be writing reports on drug prevention on a hot Friday night, I would have belted out a hearty laugh, followed by a shot of straight Tequila.

My typical Friday nights were spent in one of two ways:

a.) I was in church with my friends and family
b.) I was out running the streets, higher than a kite and no doubt on my way to becoming quite smashed.

Sometimes in that order.

If I didn’t puke, I generally wasn’t having a good time. This went on for a good twenty years. I suppose that my extensive experience on the subject fuels my passion for it. I know many people who think you can’t touch a drop to drink (or you’re a raging alkie) or that if you smoke a joint, you’re on your way to harder drugs, such as cocaine or heroin, seeing how pot is considered a “gateway drug”.

But I don’t think this is so. Many things change the brain’s chemistry and can cause addiction- not just drugs. I’ve had many Twinkie battles (when I had a chronic case of the munchies) and I was certain the Twinkie would win, but again, not so. Will power and a solid education go a long way. “Just Say No” simply doesn’t work, and the DARE program was an epic failure.

So what’s the answer?

I ponder these things. Drugs and alcohol littered my youth- they were my second skin.

Now, I haven’t smoked a joint in six years, and haven’t had hard liquor in six as well. I don’t care much for the taste of alcohol these days- that’s not to say I can’t have a beer or two, or a glass of wine with a salad. I just fell out of love with it, that’s all.

Photography has taken the place of drugs I believe. My art is satisfying enough for me.

When I’m excited- I take pics.
When I’m sad- I take pics.
When I’m stressed- I take pics.
When I’m angry- I take pics.

By doing so, I alleviate much of the stress associated with these intense emotions. I can add descriptions to my work so that the viewer can perhaps step into my shoes. It’s absolutely therapeutic. I remember the day I quit smoking cigarettes (six years ago also). I was wondering what in the world I would do when I was stressed. No weed- no whiskey- no smokes! Where’s the fun?!

Then I picked up a camera. 🙂

Maybe someday I’ll design a program for kids and teens, that incorporates “phototherapy” into their lives. It’s not too expensive- everybody has a camera these days, and they can express their pent up emotions through their art.

Good grief, am I really rambling on about drug prevention on a Friday night?!

Yes. I’m afraid I am…

And here’s the Executive Summary I turned in today:

 

*****************************************************************************************************************************************************
(Copying, “borrowing”, or outright stealing this work for the use of plagiarism is absolutely prohibited and any breach of this written warning could result in prosecution.)

Executive Summary

In 1983, Daryl F. Gates founded the Drug Abuse Resistance Program, or DARE. The program offered a ten week, in-school, interactive learning module taught by local law enforcement officers and others. Authorized workers and guest speakers were to undergo 80 hours of training in the areas of childhood development, communication skills, and other interpersonal tools. Funding for the organization was based on certain criteria being met: The information was to be research-based, and effective. In 1998, funding for the program was cut as a result of failing to meet the required regulations. The Department of Education (DOE) has withdrawn from the program completely and refuses to give DARE any future funding. Recent scientific studies have proven DARE to not only be ineffective, but counterproductive as well. It is difficult to say whether the law enforcement officers’ lack of therapeutic qualifications played a part in the failure of DARE’s program. Perhaps it was a combination of factors that simply weren’t cohesive. Some of the teenagers in the program may have viewed the police officers as a threat. It is a fair assessment to say that minorities and inner-city kids may have been preconditioned to fear police officers, especially if they might have been told the same division put a parent or family member behind bars. Perhaps too, the overexposure to a variety of drugs gave the young DARE members more temptations than they might have had without the program.

Attempts at primary prevention education have been challenging over the years as well. Targeting grade-schoolers, many programs have used catchy slogans, such as, “Just Say No,” without reaping necessary and expected benefits. A major problem with this technique that must be taken into consideration is the exposure to a host of new drugs that many children are not aware of beforehand. By announcing the dangers of these items, children are being tantalized and seduced by an idea, “the forbidden fruit”.

Scare tactics is another method that has been ineffective. When presenting exaggerated effects of drugs to children and teens, but especially teens, they will often discredit the material altogether. When teenagers are shown dramatic images of horrific drug-related events, the emotional connection and fear are more temporal than long lasting. Children lack the foresight to understand what 20 years of hard drinking may do to the body, even knowing, he or she may not care. Connecting with these kids on his or her level is crucial. Targeting a demographic is necessary, but so is having the precision and ability to actually reach these children.

Another aspect to consider when using scare tactics is the often romantic appeal of a thing when it is presented as “off limits”. That is not to say legalization of drugs or underage drinking should be an option, but perhaps emphasizing nausea as an effect, rather than euphoria, may tarnish its overall attraction. The effects of drug and alcohol use are tempting to children and teens because they like to feel good. Toddlers spin in circles to mimic euphoria, even before they are old enough to form sentences, much less understand the concept of drugs and alcohol and their effects on the body. No matter how well packaged or distributed antidrug campaigns may be, unless the parents or caregivers of the child are reinforcing, in the home, what he or she is learning in school, the whole of it will be counterproductive.

Programs like the Child Development Project (CDP) have been shown to significantly reduce drinking and drug use among adolescents and teens between the ages of 5-12. The CDP strives to promote closer bonds between students and their peers, teachers and students, and students and parents. Another useful prevention program is Class Action, which is a universal school-based alcohol-related learning module. Class Action targets children between the ages of 9-12. This program in particular has proven to reduce the onset of drinking among school kids, and has reduced binge drinking among high school students.

One reason for the success of Class Action is the interactive peer-led relationships between the students and their mentors, or speakers. The representatives focus on turning negative peer pressure into positive peer pressure; thereby changing the messages of alcohol uses and abuse altogether. Students who heed the warnings will perceive drinking as something that might be shunned by their peers, in turn, molding their choices into healthier actions. Unlike DARE, which is a tertiary prevention program, the CPD and Class Action are primary and secondary prevention programs.

Recommended Changes:

Avoid using scare tactics in secondary and tertiary prevention programs. The fear-related material can be effective in creating a necessary protective boundary in grade-schoolers. The same fear may compound stress in teenagers, causing them to actually want to try drugs or alcohol, and the same could be said in tertiary programs. Scare tactics are best used during primary prevention, when children are most impressionable.

Avoid using law enforcement officers in secondary and tertiary prevention programs. They may induce rebellion in teens, and resentment among addicts. Again, law enforcement officers are presented and often perceived as “the good guys” to grade-schoolers. A two step interactive transitional program is recommended that would bridge the gap from grade-school over to middle school, and then middle school to high school, promoting the positive images of law enforcement officers. Telling children to “stay away from bad things” simply does not work. Law enforcement officers would be encouraged to engage in activities that children and teens participate in most: gaming, texting, and hanging out at their favorite hot spots.

Abstinence rewards in school is another recommendation.
Reward middle and high school students who abstain from alcohol and drugs.

Implementation:

Develop a program specifically for middle and high school students offering monthly voluntary drug testing. Rather than spend money on building more incarceration facilities, increase funding for voluntary drug testing in schools. Rewards include: Ipods, clothing cards from their local malls, and ITunes cards that allow unlimited downloading of songs. By associating positive material gain (rewards) with abstinence, the fear and anxiety associated with drug testing would be diminished, if not altogether diffused, and kids and teens would develop an appreciation for drug testing that could possibly carry over into adulthood. Just as word-of-mouth among peer groups is drugs and alcohol’s number one promoter, so too, the Abstinence Reward Program (ARP) could be widely spread and promoted by peers among peers.

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Catwalk/My daughter, Heidi./Lensbaby Composer pro-Double Glass Ops./Manual ex./RAW/GIMP

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Photo Therapy

So my assignments are stacking up already.

College Algebra
Fill out proctor forms/fax back to instructors
Read 28 pages in Nutrition/take first quiz
Finish up reading in Alcohol and Other Drug Problems- type out 2 page report as a treatment center assistant, specializing in prevention
Prepare for my first speech

They’re not due until next Monday, so…there’s time.

I’m tempted to go play hookie. Down at the river. With my camera. Maybe- maybe I could do research of some kind. For school. Or something.
With my camera.

Josh is frustrated. He’s on his laptop rambling on about his inconsiderate teacher.
I really didn’t hear a word he said.

“Is that your Spanish class?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said, seemingly appeased.

I passed.

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Heidi/Lensbaby Composer Pro/Double Glass Ops./RAW/Manual [Rebel xti]

I’m Not Above It

Oh…my goodness. Where to start.

I posted an ad on Craig’s List to pick up some extra cash. I am not above scrubbing toilets.
Josh and I got to Kate’s house a few minutes early. [Name has been changed for confidentiality purposes.] We peeked through the windows.

Kate had already told me on the phone, that she was a heart patient.
What she failed to disclose, is that she is also a semi-hoarder.
And…her house hasn’t had a good cleaning in years.

We knocked on the door a few minutes early- no answer.
I caught the look in Josh’s eye and it was obvious that he was thinking the same thing.
We made our way quickly back to the car.

“Look. Let’s just call her. Tell her that it’s going to take longer than we thought. We can come back again,” Josh said.

“If we leave now, we’ll never be back,” I said. “It’s just how things go.”

So we started rationalizing.

“What if it was our Aunt Ida or something? Or a family member…”
“Why did we come here? To leave?”
“What is so important that we have to do besides help this woman?”

And so on.

And so between us both, we decided that we had no choice but to return to Nan’s house, and do the best we could for her.

I knew she was a fiercely intelligent woman; I could tell within seconds of meeting her. Her eyes beemed with an intense light. Her skin was amazing!
Nan was probably going on 60 or so, and I liked her right away. A very earthy, down-to-earth woman. My kind of person. No BS, no fronts.  Just herself.

“Kate, you look like a psychologist,” I said to her.

“I am,” said Kate.

And so we stayed for five and a half hours and cleaned our butts off. We put in a few extra laps for her, and it was our pleasure.
I’m used to making $20 per hour by myself when I clean, given my 25+ years experience and proficiency in the area, but Josh and I are both doing the school thing, and we’d rather clean houses privately, and on our own time, than to work a public job and so on. Also, we get to meet many interesting people this way.

Kate cut us a check for $125. We kissed her dog Daisy goodbye, and locked up behind us.

I can barely believe we did what we did there in only five and a half hours. Unbelievable.

Grocery shopping. (Beer, watermelon, rasberries, vanilla ice cream, sodas, smoked mussels, etc.)
Dishes. Bubblebath. Cleaning my own house. A bit of reading in my schoolbook, “Alcoholism and Other Drug Problems”. And finally…

…to bed.

Recent Work

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Public of your Past/Canon G3/self portrait

 

G3/self

 

G3/self

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Lensbaby Composer Pro/Double Glass Ops.
Falls of the Ohio/Water

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The Hiding Place/My daughterBrianna-reworked(added film filter + mastered levels and hues)
Lensbaby Composer Pro/Double Glass

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Thirty one Hours/ My daughter, Heidi,Reworked
Lensbaby Composer Pro/ Double Glass/Canon Rebel Xti

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Times Square/New York, New York
Multiple Exposure/Sigma 17-70

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Warhol/ Warhol exhibition (Campbell’s soup cans)
Museum of Modern Art- New York, New York

Multiple Exposure

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Warsaw/ Abandoned Government Facility
Lensbaby Composer Pro/Double Glass Ops.

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My daughter, Heidi/Lensbaby Composer Pro/Double Glass

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He’s Leaving Again/Lensbaby Composer Pro/Double Glass

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Interrogation/ My kitchen chair in natural window lighting (my favourite lighting)
Lensbaby Composer Pro/Double Glass

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Self Portrait/Long exposure experiment/Canon G3/manual (8 secs.)

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Shadows and Leaves/Harvest Homecoming/Canon G3/Manual

Last Day of Freedom

I can’t believe school starts tomorrow. My summer vacation is officially over.

Heidi emailed me and asked if she might come to live with us until February. I’m ecstatic! We’ll be moving into a new house before September 10th. The $5,280 in school grants and loans will be a big help. Josh will be going full-time this semester as well. He’ll be receiving less than $4,000, but between the both of us, we’ll pay for five months of rent up front, which will take some of the pressure off. Because Heidi will be with us, we’ll probably go with a four bedroom house. When she’s back in Bloomington (here and there), we’ll use the room as an office.

I’m a bit weirded out by my Speech class. I’ve put that class off for two years. (Sigh.) I’ll also be going into my fourth semester of college math. I was going to break up my classes and only go part-time, but decided to bite the bullet and face all of my fears at once and simply get it over with. I’m saddened that I will have to put my photography on the back burner once again, but excited by the fact that I’ll be simultaneously working on my online gallery.

I was also just juried in to Sojie 18:

Birgitta, hi, your image below was nominated for SoJie 18 –
Solo’s Juried Invitational Exhibition on “Abstracts”

It’s time to post!

  1. deadline is this Friday, August 24, 2012, 8AM New York time!
  2. judging starts immediately after the deadline
  3. show opens Monday, August 27th!

SoJie 18 – exhibition space and instructions
Use the special “Easy Button” linked in the intro to get image code to copy/paste into a comment.
There is the link, and an illustration in the intro on how to use the Easy Button, 1-2-3.

Congratulations!
Frannie

p.s. Below is your nominated image. You will see your nomination sticker in the comments. Click it, or the above link for instructions.


Men Walking
by Birgitta

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I took the shot with a Lensbaby Composer Pro (Double Glass)- slow shutter sp./ Night shot (about 8 seconds or so).
RAW/manual/Canon Rebel Xti

I love to bend the light. This image is almost SOOTC/straight out of the camera.
I did a slight level adjustment, but apart from that- it is.

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It’s a prestigious nomination. I’m pleased. 🙂

Another Sale

 

Sales have been good to me lately.

I just received this email this morning:

Hi Ḃḭṙḡḭṫṫä,

You’ve just made a sale on Redbubble! Your work was so brilliant that someone showed their appreciation with their wallet. Unfortunately we have to mark this event with a very boring email but it is full of Useful Facts (TM) about the sale.

‘But when will I get this money?’ we hear you cry, and rightfully so. Well you can find out here: http://support.redbubble.com/faqs/top20/when-do-i-get-paid

Thanks for being who you are and doing what you do, we love having you around Redbubble.

Mr Baxter – Chief Officer of Sending You Good News

———————————————————————
1x Photographic Print of “”The Longest Dream”
Print Size: Large (610mm x 117mm)
Finish: Lustre

Your Margin: AU$14.22 (US$14.95)
———————————————————————

The sale details:

Retail Price: AU$39.17
Manufacturing fee: AU$24.95

Total Margin: AU$14.22 (US$14.95)

You’ll receive: US$14.95
———————————————————————

While $14.95 won’t buy me a new car, or even a full meal at a buffet, (ok, I think it would cover the buffet), I’m not complaining because when you’re as busted as I am, every penny counts.

Fine Art America is now telling me that they’re having “technical difficulties” with my print order. Here’s our problem: they want a crystal clear image (seeing how it’s a B&W landscape of trees in the rain) and fail to comprehend that the ADDED blur and grain they’re seeing on the image is very much intentional, as it is with many of my photos. I create mood with added film grain and gaussian blur- it’s present throughout many of my images. I create depth and mood with my textures. (This is why I’m fond of film cameras.) When shooting with a DSLR, I will purposefully jack up my ISO so that there is present grain in my photo- I also shoot only in monochrome, and RAW. (All manual.) Trying to explain this to somebody who is a “straight photographer/staff member” is beyond frustrating, because now I feel like she’s (“Dawn”) challenging my artistic merit.

The site is called “Fine ART America”, not Fine PHOTOGRAPHY America, and it pisses me off to no end that now, the staff can officially “interpret” what is and what is not- your art!

Would they tell a painter that he or she needs to resubmit a painting using “this or that” acrylic brand paint? Then why do so with a photographer? I intentionally muck up many of my images with blur and grain- that is my trademark style, and I’m known for that.

I wrote Dawn/Fine Art America back and told them all of this, to no avail, and she proceeded to tell me that I needed to reshoot the image (?!! “Are you for real, Dawn?!”) so that they can produce a higher quality photo without blurring or grain. GEH!!!

They. Just. Don’t. Get. It.

How unfair is it to the buyer, who’s paying $731 for that print- to assume that they’ll be getting what they ordered, all the while, behind the scenes, the staff is telling the artist to RESHOOT THE FRIKKING PHOTO and then- they’ll ship the buyer a completely different image than what the buyer ordered- without letting the buyer know!

I immediately lost respect for Fine Art America. Completely.

I told Dawn that I would not be reshooting or resubmitting a “new photo”, and challenging my artistic interpretation would not be tolerated, and that she had only two options:

1.) Print and ship the original, as the buyer intended, yes, I’m aware that it is 9 feet long. It IS supposed to be somewhat blurry if you’re looking at a 9 feet photo on your farging monitor, Dawn. You have to back up about 3 or 4 feet, Dawn!

2.) Release the buyer’s name and address so that I can deal with him or her directly.

I then gave Dawn my Redbubble link, that links her up with their # 1 competitor’s site, and showed her the 160 comments on that image, and how I’ve already been selling the same image there- with no complaints.

(And, again, have made another sale this morning in fact.)

Dawn considers this a “high risk print” because it’s 9 feet long.

I reminded Dawn that while they consider it “high risk” to print, if they didn’t go through with the order, it would be an even greater risk to them, because I will post a journal entry at Redbubble- and within one day- at least 5 countries would know about it by the end of the day.

All of my friends, buddies, pals, and acquaintances are all artists, all over the world. I don’t know many who’re not.

Dawn decided that she would contact the buyer and “inform him” of their troubles. I am livid.

They’re used to seeing landscapes that are crystal clear (etc. etc.) but I inject my own mood and presence into my work with my lighting, exposure, film grain and blur. It adds a retro-vintage feeling to the image that isn’t done in one little mouseclick. It’s not a simple filter that’s applied. It’s various layers (sometimes 20-25) and very much like a patchwork quilt, I will errase bits and pieces from each layer, blending and merging and blending and merging- much like painting- until the final piece has a certain depth and mood.

I’m waiting to hear back from Dawn/Fine Art America.

Will update soon.                                                       

                                                                                                                                                                     Land and Sea

 

… 

Multiple Exposure

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Brianna seems to think I need “followers”. She says she feels sad for me when she sees that there are no comments in my blog. I was quick to remind her that while my blog is public, it’s still very private. Nobody knows I’m here! It’s not a bad thing. If I wanted comments, I would post something at Redbubble and within the hour, have lots of feedback. (And while we’re on the subject, I sold another print the other day of “The Longest Dream”.)

I post things here as a thumbprint. I want to leave something behind that’s more than just my artwork and photos. Little snippets of who I am.

J and I will be getting a house soon. He’s starting school again and I’ll be starting my fall semester with him. He’ll be taking general studies still but is interested in Physics. I’m doing all that I can to encourage him. He’s got such a brilliant mind and is always inventing things. He’s pretty amazing in that area.

I’ll be taking Nutrition, College Algebra, Public Speaking, and Substance Abuse Treatment Centers I. That should keep me busy for a while! I’ll get a little chunk of change back after my tuition, so I want to buy my Mom some dentures. They’ll be around $1,000. She seemed to have misplaced hers altogether and is feeling embarrassed to go out in public. And that’s about all for now.

Cold. Hard. Refreshing.

That’s what my mike’s hard cranberry lemonade says on the label and I believe ’em.

So, let’s move right along to more interesting things like death.

Death. Death. Death.

I tell you, I’m not fixated on it or anything, but I found out that my cerebral arachnoid cyst that is rebelliously attached to my brain stem has grown to the vulgar size of three centimeters. That’s the size of a golf ball. I’m not altogether jovial about that. I went to the doctor several days ago to find out, abruptly, that I have no medical insurance. Suddenly, after over a decade of having Medicaid, kersmack- it’s gone! Well, it was just bad timing. I was filling out the new patient form at the neurologist and the receptionist had made some calls.

What had happened was, my X decided that he wanted to try Humana’s insurance. He discovered, after a very short time, that he couldn’t afford it and aborted the prospect. It was, however, enough to raise a red flag within the child support system. It is of their belief, that if he can afford Humana insurance no matter how short of time (and he cannot), then he can do the same for his two children. (Again, he cannot.)

My x and I have joint custody. Even so, he’s ordered to pay $50 per week for my two teens, seeing how they reside with me the majority of the time. Fair enough. But when he tried out Humana’s insurance, they cut off my Medicaid, along with the children’s.

Now, there’s no point in playing the victim and explaining my golf ball cyst to total strangers on the telephone that are bound by government agencies, stipulations, protocol, and other trivial unfortunates. I simply went down to the child support division with nothing more than my disapproving look and convincing argument, and believe me, I have the gift of salesmanship and know how to sell somebody their own shoes. While they’re on their feet.

No picture ID or anything!

I explained the situation to the child support division: they had begun to dock my poor ex.’s wages for $80 per week! The court order said he was only to pay $50 per week. I ask you, how in the (blankety blank) are they allowed to jack up the amount outside of an attorney and the law and everything?! It’s just not right, and I tell you, I feel sorry for the Dads out there in the world who are getting socked in the back with this kind of crap. It’s utter BS, and I know a good many moms who would think the dads’ plights their sudden fortunes, but if somebody slaps you upside the head with a bag of $80 in coins, and leaves you lying in a bloody mess on the ground, are you going to rejoice because you’re $80 richer, or seek justice because you’ve been assaulted by something you didn’t ask for?

I suppose that answer would lie in the hearts and motives of the recipients.

I decided to fight the system and shine the better light on my x. He is no Santa Claus, and he’s no “hero dad”, but he is a good dad who loves his children. I told the child support system to give me the papers to sign to close out the case, and I signed them.

The state worker said,” Now, I do need to inform you that once you sign this paper, we won’t be able to help you for the next year, even if you DO want our help.”

I signed the papers without hesitation. She then reported that she would stop garnishing his wages and that they wouldn’t intercept his tax check.

The children are with their dads right now, spending a great weekend with him at their grandmothers. He was so very happy and relieved by the papers that I gave him yesterday.

It’s a small victory against the system of “abusing children for custodial parents’ gain” and it’s a huge victory for keeping such an evil system out of our personal lives.

We made the children by ourselves.

We can raise them, though apart, amicably, for the safety and mental health of our children.

There are too many bitter mothers out there with a death wish against their x, that poison their children against the “absentee parent” for revenge. It’s child abuse- straight up. Plain and simple. Don’t dress it up- call it what it is!

Then they tell their kids how bad the “absent parent” is. It’s sick.

And a good many moms (and foster moms, for that matter) out there need to be ashamed of themselves. Pouring hatred into their children, year after year, while gloating about it to their ex., and plenty of men end up bitter against women for it. Am I supporting the men? Absolutely. Am I accusing the moms who do that? Absolutely. Yeah, I’m on a tangent. I don’t go on one often. But so many children end up destroyed because of the parents’ custody-wars.

My x and I have been divorced for over five years. We do not always like each other, but for the kids’ sake, we remain peaceful, amicable, and demonstratively communicable.

It really is cut and dried. Parents, if you love your children, and you are separated or divorced from your x- stop killing your childrens’ hearts with your hatred against the other parent. And if you are guilty of doing so, then I hope you can see your errors and have genuine conviction and make the choice to not do so any more.

Give you kids a fighting chance in this world.

End rant!

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[J- in the abandoned warehouse. New Albany, Indiana]

Wretched Mess

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Today has been one of the most wretched days of my life. I’ve had the worst migraine that I’ve ever had, and it has been a doosy. I started my day with a strong dose of cayenne and ginger (as usual) , followed by a small  cup of medicinal tea. I was grossly nauseous, and so went back to bed. I tried to read some of my Bette Davis/Joan Crawford dual biography, but was too sick. The pain was mostly in the back of my head, exactly where my cyst is, and it was swelling- massive pressure was building up and as usual, it felt as if I’d been shot in the back of the head- but this is actually worse. When a person is shot in the head, more times than not, they die. If they don’t die, they’re rushed to the hospital and given large doses of morphine, stadol, demerol, or something of that nature so they’re not suffering. In my case, I have to sit it out. Minutes feel like hours. Words are too simple to describe this kind of ongoing pain.

I haven’t taken a phenergan in over a month, but I tried to take one half and be very still. Eventually though, my stomach revolted. My son asked, “Do you want me to bring you the trash can, mom?”

“No, I don’t want to throw up in front of everybody,” I said.

Two minutes later I ran to the bathroom and “worshipped the porcelain god” as the saying goes. Now if you’ve never thrown up a fairly large amount of cayenne pepper, you haven’t really lived yet. My whole head was on fire! My nasal passages felt as if somebody’d sprayed acid into them and I was crying tears that actually burned. (Not boo-hoo crying, but phsyiologically.) Also, the pain was exacerbated by the fact that I had a new surge of fiery adrenaline coursing through my body, particularly in my head.

I made it back to my bed and by God’s good mercy, was able to sleep. I woke up feeling like raw heck, drank a bit more of my medicinal tea (poppy seed tea, which actually works to kill the pain, if you can keep it down), and after five more hours of intense agony- ordered Chinese. (Might I recommend the moo shu beef? General Tso’s chicken is also a tasty dish, and crab rangoons make a great appeteizer. This is what I ordered, along with a coke and a few Pepsi’s.)

It is now 12:45 a.m. and the pain is still pretty intense (it’s moved around to my front right eye socket). Ibuprofin is a joke, but I took two anyway. It’s been three weeks since I’ve stopped taking my Lortab and Ambien. My liver was beginning to tell me that I couldn’t keep taking pills and remain “healthy”. Granted, I never exceeded 10 mg. at one time, which is the equivalent of 1 blue Lortab, (but seldom took even that much). This is part of the reason why I decided to become certified in Substance Abuse- I know far too many people who have been reduced to a mere statistic, having lost everything (including themselves) to drugs.

I’ve become passionate in my search for a homeopathic solution: pain management without having to take pharmaceutical chemicals. Poppy seed tea can be taken at small doses to combat severe pain, such as the pain from my arachnoid cyst, while still allowing me to function. Naturally, if you take a larger amount, you can get higher than a kite, but if I wanted to get high, I’d just smoke a joint. I like to be in control of my faculties though. This is part of the reason why I quit drinking liquor over five years ago. If I chose to not take anything at all, I’d be limited to “getting out of bed to pee” and that’s about it. I can’t live that way. So after much consideration and trial and error, I’m sticking with my cayenne, ginger, and med. tea, when necessary.

I do get more migraines this way (not taking pharmaceutical drugs) and some days it’s sheer agony, like today, but my liver feels 80% better.

Through it all, I’m able to say, “Thank you God for this pain. I still choose to praise you, and lift up Your Name.”

When I compare my pain, to the pain that Jesus had to endure, I shudder to think that I could even complain. I still have two eyes that see, and a heart that loves- two working hands, a family that I love and that loves me. I have much to be thankful for.

Much to be thankful for. 🙂

Pain in Rainbows pt. # 2

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I decided to convert my collage (Pain in Rainbows) over into a digitally rendered fauvist styled painting on stone. I rather liked the way it came out. While I wasn’t planning on sharing my arachnoid cyst situation with all of Australia, I wanted to include my Aussie friends (all of whom are artists: sculptors, writers, and painters) as we’ve all been close for about six years now.

I feel pretty fortunate to have such a great group of friends. Many have solo exhibitions and are quite successful in the art world. And, a finer bunch of people I’ve never known.

The site I’m referring to is Redbubble. I’ve been there six years. Hmm…maybe seven.

 

Pain in Rainbows

I really don’t like pop art. Never cared for the Marylin coloured collage or the tomato soup cans (though I admit that I was thoroughly infatuated with the life of Warhol and have much respect for his talent). I decided to mingle the style of pop art with my love of B&W to examine and interpret my migraine pain. I suppose it could convey most any pain. After all, we all live with pain- whether emotional or physical- but none escape it. Like art, music, laughter, joy, and death- pain is a language that needs no interpreter.

I have recently found my Canon G3 battery charger. The camera is absolutely obslete on todays market, but I know that camera better than my own skin. I cut my teeth on that camera (manual exposure, shooting in monochrome, manipulating the lighting and shadows, and so on).

I think the problems many artists and photographers face today are due to the fact that the modern digital cameras are so “capable” that the user need only click one main button, “auto”, and the camera “does it all”. While it can mimic the accuracy to a degree, it cannot automatically shape and mold the light on a level that one can attain if he or she manually adjusts the settings. It’s like comparing a bologna sandwhich to foie gras. Or, Vienna Sausages to caviar. If a person doesn’t know how to shoot in manual, he or she may still be able to create an effective image, especially in Lightroom, GIMP (which is what I use), or Photoshop, but then it falls into digital artistry and not so much “photography”.

If you are curious to know what kind of a photographer you are, throw your DSLR (or P&S) in MANUAL, as well as MONOCHROME, and go out during the golden hour as well as high noon- then look at the stills. When you can take a batch of photos that aren’t blown out, hot- and bleeding here or there- you’re ready to move on to a more advanced camera.

There’s really no point in getting a fancy camera if you don’t know how to shoot in all manual! I can’t say this enough. And the truth is, about 80% of all of us photogs that have high end cameras are LAZY. (Notice I said “us”.) Very few actually shoot in manual mode, much less understand how to.

If I had a big rig, I’d be the laziest photog in the world.
Thank God for innovation and ghetto-rigging.

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Never Is a Promise

http://www.singsnap.com/karaoke/r/c0b36d926 

So I decided to jump off the deep end and upload a karaoke video of me singing. Yes. KARAOKE.

Perhaps at some point I may even upload a beeraoke video- who knows.
Let’s get this party started.

Yeah.

And I realize I have the bedhead going on, and I look like the proverbial tormented artist.
Alas, that is because I am the proverbial tormented artist.

“Never Is a promise” by Fiona Apple. No- by me, written by Fiona Apple.
I like that better.

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The Longest Goodbye (Sort Of)

Well my head has been splitting open for going on two days straight.
Even so, I had a little melody playing today in my heart when I woke up.
I layed out the skeleton this morning, and pretty much made up the last bits as I went along. It’s still in its concept form.

(I used an alias at YouTube. I’m enjoying my little bloggy hiding place here. Very, very quiet. Nice. 🙂

The Marriage of Black and White

 

I’m realizing only today why I’m so creative. Because I’ve had to improvize my whole life. Having next to nothing to work with, forces you to try harder. You have no choice but to experiment because you really don’t know what else to do. Over time, your style becomes defined, refined, and unmistakable.

Having to sell my rig, more than once, I was left with only my Canon G3. It’s a 4 MP dinosaur. Because I had nothing else, I decided to not only learn how to shoot in B&W + manual, but revel in it.

That was about two years ago. I’ve been shooting for about 7, but B&W rules me. I’m completely infatuated with the marriage between light and shadows. To me, black and white is already a story. The images within an image become the actors on the stage, or props, I suppose, but even if you have only one blank wall, and a cheap camera set up to photograph that wall, with a bit of natural window lighting hitting it (through parted curtains, say), then the clouds passing over the sun become the filters. The passing clouds increase and decrease the gamma and contrast naturally.

The story of B&W is one of masculinity and femininity. Life and death. Hot and cold. Love and hate. When stripped down to their very elements, they are in their most powerful state. I have little interest at the moment in HDR, filters of this or that kind- and while they’re great (and I have experience in those as well) I can’t escape the beauty of being stripped down to almost nothing, and simply working with what ya got.

That’s not to say I photograph things in the nude.

I’m experimenting with a new webcam I got. It’s a cheapie $18.00 Logitech. But it’s capable of shooting in B&W (Heaven……….!) and so I’ve been sitting here in my computer chair, painting shadow swans on my wall with my hands. When I move my hands back and forth to and away from my chest, the shadows become elongated horizontally. Such a simple action. But it changes the dynamics of everything.

And here are some snappies:

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This is generally how I feel several times a week.
“Ahhh…..close the curtains!”

(Migraines make the light absolutely unbearable.) Oh, and I wasn’t faking it. I did indeed wake up with a migraine.
I intentionally bleached the lighting, and jacked up the gamma so the blacks would be double heavy.

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Choppy, grainy, bleeding contrast, toasted exposure- what’s not to love?

(Yes, yes, I’m kidding.) But the shadows on my neck from my fingers are intentional.

It’s a fair statement to say that I am obsessed with shadows.

Perhaps I’ll post a video today.

Perhaps not. 

 

 

 

Aside

On Death and Smiling

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My BFF, Josh, playing the guitar. Lensbaby Composer Pro/Double Glass /2.8

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              My daughter, Heidi, in another one of her gravity-defying moves- taken recently on the tracks.
Between my photography and her modeling, I’d say we make a swell team.

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My daughter, Heidi, down at the tracks.
She’s 1/2 Italian, and so I was going for the look of Italian Vogue.
We had been up all night, and I shot 246 shots of her there.
Sleep deprivation is like a poor man’s high.
Kicks in the creativity!

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Another one from the shoot.
Heidi is a natural, and a brilliant model.
Lensbaby Composer Pro/Double Glass /4
Canon Rebel XTI
Natural lighting/manual exp.

“When I die, I don’t want everybody standing around like birds gawking; wondering if I’m still breathing or not. Who wants that?” I asked my son.

“I would want everyone to carry on normally.”

I realize this would be a tall request. And really, it isn’t altogether fair to ask someone to give you something that they  may not be capable of giving.

“I don’t think people are afraid of dying, really,” said he. “I think people are afraid that others will forget about them. We’re all alike. We just want to be remembered.”

I smiled. “You have wisdom above your years, son,” still smiling.

 

Yes. I suppose we do.

And then the Doctor Said…

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[pics of my kids]  Lensbaby Composer Pro + Double Glass optics/4 & 2.8

“Well where is your pain?”

“In the back of my head, this time. At the top of my neck and the base of my head,” said I.
I suppose I could have just as easily said where my cerebellum and brain stem are.

“Well, that’s exactly where your cyst is,” said he.

“Cyst. Hmm. So…right. You know, I’m not a lightweight. Do I need surgery? Just…tell me what’s up with it.”

And so on and stuff.

So I’ve discovered the culprit of my raging three day migraines. And sometimes four. This arachnoid cyst. Hmm. Not a pretty sounding fella. Arachnoid means spider-like. Who knows what the heck I’m toting around up there. I do know one thing for certain: I refuse to go down without a fight.

Also, I’m not prepared to put my life in the hands of a man I don’t know. Degree notwithstanding. I’ve decided that I’ll take matters into my own hands and request an MRI every six months, measure it myself, and take the direction I think best. I’m going to call the shots.

I’ll continue my homeopathic regimen- ground cayenne and ginger, lots of water, tea, and exercise. Now I know this might seem strange because I’ve researched arachnoid cysts and many others who have them are quite inactive. If you’ve had monster migraines, you learn to not disturb the beast. But I want to unlearn this behavior. It can be a real challenge to simply “live” sometimes, without triggering a migraine. When it hits, it feels like my whole head is exploding, and somebody is stabbing me through my right eye socket with an ice pick.

I’ve had worse pain.
Ok, that’s a complete lie. I haven’t.
It makes childbirth seem like a walk in the park.
And let it be known that I have an insanely high tolerance for pain.
I have a brand on my right arm from a coat hanger- fresh off the fire.
Gangrene set in and I had to cut it out with a knife.
Yup. Ohhhhh it’s a really good thing that I quit drinking whiskey five years ago.

Anyway, back to my tragedy.

In spite of all of this cyst stuff, I’ve decided to work on some of my music over the summer. Along with compiling a few photoshop tutorials for friends, and working on a song for a young girl named Kira. She’s the daughter of a friend (photographer, naturally), and she’s in her third week of radiation treatment. That little girl is one tough cookie. I found out her favourite colour, her favourite food, and have decided that I’ll write, record and produce a track for her as a token of friendship, and as an inspiration for her to keep on fighting.

I realize that God has given me a lot of talents. A lot of them.

Singing
Songwriting
Musician (piano/guitar)
photography and various mediums of art in general
Psychotherapy- yes. Psychotherapy. And I don’t even charge people.

Let’s see…there’s cooking and wait- I’ve published a children’s book too, called: “Peanut Butter Soup”.

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/peanut-butter-soup-birgitta-lindsey/1006855000?ean=9781418482831

It’s a collection of witty, thought-provoking, inspirational, and motivating poems for children. I included some of my chicken-scratch drawings with them- nothing so complicated that a child can’t mimic them. But they’re loaded with messages that raise awareness for the obese, the aging, metally challenged (hey- and mentally too!), and so on, so that kids will learn how to not bully others. Yes. I was a bedwetter until I was fourteen. (Sigh.) I’m afraid this batch of blog-tags are going to be the freakiest collection of words that might ever be listed together yet.

Perhaps I’ll actually get around to promoting that book one day, but for now, I’ll sign personal copies and ship them to friends. Like Kira. 🙂

In time, I’ll post videos. And actually sing. And play. (And stuff.)

For now, I’m soooooooo enjoying my summer break- good grief I thought this past semester was going to kill me. Seventeen credit hours (5 classes) and twenty one credit hours last semester. Not an easy thing to accomplish with blistering migraines, I will tell you. It was nothing short of miraculous that I came through so strongly, and, made mostly A’s and B’s.

Six classes to go and I’ll have my degree in Behavioral Sciences and certification in Substance Abuse.

Go me.

p.s. Mr. Chris Alia, I’ve added you to my tags, so if you ever go ego-surfing, you can find me.

xo