Man! does it feel good to take
pictures in front of something other than a barn door! I actually considered changing the name of this blog to something like, “Born In A Barn,” due to the fact that I've posted so
many photos featuring barn settings. Okay, so realistically there’s no way in hell I would’ve
changed the title of this blog to anything with the word, “barn,” in it. I think we all know how I feel about mixing
farm terminology with fashion. I promise
not to go off on another, “Dress Barn,” rant…for now. However, lately I’ve been so bored with my rural based pictures that often my instant reaction to them is animal noises. Can anybody say, “Woof?!”
Of course now that I have a portable
set up for photography I’ve mustered the confidence to make my hobby mobile! Finally my readers, (bless your hearts for listening
to me babble about absolutely nothing,) will be able to have some interesting
backgrounds to look at. In fact, I assume this may be the main thing to look at, considering there are only so many thrift
store outfits people are interested in.
While I still possess the same enthusiasm for fashion, I'll state right
now I’m more excited to explore town for engaging settings. I think these new found feelings of
inspiration are reflected in the photographs above. For some reason this outfit is really
appealing to me. While I'll pat myself
on the back for coordinating an interesting look, I think credit
should be given to the fact that I’m finally not using an ugly garage door as a scenic accent wall. Oh how I cringe at the
amount of bird crap stains I’ve had on display behind me simply because I
wanted to use a colored door for a background.
Why?...Why?!...do apparently thousands of birds like to defecate on our
garage door? I will never know.
Admittedly taking blog pictures in a public
setting does have some setbacks. Number
one is trying to get over my own self-consciousness. Upon real consideration I find this problem extremely
ironic. I seem to have a real issue with
taking glamour shots in front of a few passersby, however I have absolutely no
problem posting the same images on the internet for the entire freaking world to see. This
really makes no sense. As a result, I’ve
decided to suck it up and take silly pictures in front of any person that
may happen to be around. I reason it looks
a whole lot weirder to suddenly stiffen up and start whistling like nothing is
going on every time a stranger walks by.
Besides, most of the people I encounter in public don’t give a crap about
what a weirdo like me is up to. People are busy with their own lives. Okay, so
maybe these individuals give me a glance when they catch me mumbling to myself because I tripped while walking on turf with wedges that are a titch too high for off-roading.
Speaking of new terrain, in addition to featuring different locations in future blog posts I also look forward to creating a series of self-portraits
featuring digitally altered elements. The last picture of this post is one of
these portraits. I like the idea of displaying these altered pictures along with the untouched images of what I really looked like
that day. It’s kind of like, “Here’s how
Rayna really looked…now here’s how Rayna felt like she should look…wished she looked…just
thought looked really cool.” I guess overall I’m
most excited about this new self-portrait series. As I mentioned in a previous post it feels good to
incorporate some actual artistic ideas into this usual puff piece
blog.
Finally, if you happen to be in a public place and
you encounter an eccentric woman who reeks of Nag Champa and is hobbling across
a cobblestone pathway in platform shoes, while bitching under her breath, “This
is ridiculous! I’m totally gonna fall
down this hill. Did I just scrape the
side of my shoe?! Oh great, I wear them
out ONE time and this is what happens!
Stupid!...just stupid! Why can’t
I get this tripod to sit level? Perfect,
now I’m sweating. That oughta photograph
nicely…” keep in mind she’s not dangerous.
She’s just embracing the glamorous life of, “modeling,” on location.
-r.
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