Red Umbrella In The Snow

Day 129: In the Pacific Northwest, if you carry an umbrella, it marks you as being from Somewhere Else (probably California), but a few years ago, I bought a cheap one specifically for a photo shoot. It hasn't been out of the closet since, deemed an ineffectual way to keep our particular breed of rain off you...you know, the kind of rain which comes down sideways and penetrates to the bone within a minute or two of starting, the kind of rain which arrives on Tuesday and doesn't leave for at least two weeks. True Pacific Northwesterners live in the full-body protection of Goretex.

So, unfamiliar with umbrellas as a species, I finally found the little button you push to open the beast. Whoosh! Up she went! I took the photo, and then while still outside in the cold, I started trying to figure out how to return it to the "closed" configuration. Much swearing ensued as I trapped pieces of my jacket in it, and had it refuse to lock into place because I'd passed some invisible point which re-engaged the "open" mechanism. As I got colder and colder (remember, I'm just recovering from pneumonia), I decided the prudent thing would be to take it indoors and work on it there. Even so, it took me almost twenty minutes to figure out how to clamp it between my knees so I could get all the little points back in the handle.

Red Brolly

Makeup Day 11: Inspired by a passion for surrealist art, I particularly enjoy finding unusual features in the landscape which I can incorporate into my photography, particularly when creating a self-portrait such as this. However, today I had a more impressionistic concept in mind for the Red Brolly when I left home, but hunting season left me cut off from the world of Seurat and the quaint little bridge I had intended to use as a stage. Gone were all thoughts of soft-focused autumn colors to set off my centerpiece when I found the placid countryside taken over by orange-garbed, armed males, some shorter and possibly younger than the rifles slung over their shoulders. Thus I turned to a different area, one where innocent animals were not likely to go: a rocky bar at the east end of Riffe Lake.

It must be pointed out that for this shoot, I was perforce in costume, i.e., makeup, wig, a white dress and fashion raincoat, low heels and a newly-purchased, cheap French beret. The rain politely held off until I was done, but that did not prevent spatters of mud from dappling my dress and caking on my shoes, and although I did not break a heel, the end caps disappeared somewhere amid the rocks. The Red Brolly held up as well as could be expected in the wind, but somehow, somewhere, the beret took wing and left no clue to its whereabouts. In later (unused) shots), it is gone from my head, its departure entirely unnoticed until I packed up my gear to leave.

It is my belief that sometimes sacrifices must be made for Art. Today, the beret and my feet were among the vicitms. Heels and rocks do not go well together, nor wind and hats. Perhaps next time, I'll go for limp watches and the Persistence of Memory.