Still Life With Sourdough

Day 318: What one comestible would you be unwilling to forgo? I think I would give up coffee before I gave up homemade bread, and that's saying a lot. In the last fifty-plus years, I have probably purchased less than two dozen loaves of the commercial substance I refer to as "whipped air," and that only when I needed to make croutons for stuffing or possibly emergency sandwiches. The stuff sold in grocery stores is barely edible. True bread has substance and weight. It "sticks to your ribs," as my mother used to say. Since discovering how to make a high-hydration sourdough in a Dutch oven, it has been my go-to, with occasional detours for cinnamon swirl, bagels, a millet loaf I call "birdseed bread" or oatmeal-whole wheat. I feel white is too boring to bother with, although sometimes I'll make a sweeter egg bread. If I'm ever confined to a home or hospital where meals are prepared, I hope someone among my friends will smuggle in homemade bread.

September Morn

Day 323: Although current circumstances leave a lot to be desired, I would like to wish my readers a glad, good September Morn with hopes for brighter days ahead. Already the leaves are beginning to take on their autumn colours as Mother Nature dresses for bed. It's time for her to rest, to gather her resources and replenish her strength, so speak softly in her company. She has spent the summer at her hardest labours: producing, providing, nurturing, and she has more than earned her moment of quiet repose. In the deep of winter, recollect her kindnesses in the forms of beauty and the harvest, and keep her house tidy for when she awakens in the spring.

Grower's Tithe

 

Day 346: Here you see the grower's tithe. That is not to say that this portion of the grape yield will be set aside for my little feathered friends and furry foes; no, this is the portion they left for me, and it's just an ounce shy of a pound: ten percent, as tithes are generally said to be. Had I not picked them yesterday (and some of the fruit is a little tart), today's rain would have ruined the bunches. Even so, it's a better yield than I've had in the thirty years past, with one or two exceptions. I suspect that Interlaken would not be recommended for Growing Zones 6b-7a, although the plant itself is hardy to those temperatures. It's in the length of season where it falls down. We just don't have enough days between hard frosts for the fruit to ripen. This year, it got an earlier start, a little boost from a warmer Spring. That said, I am grateful for what harvest hangs hidden in the leaves where the jays and chipmunks never think to look, and even if I don't get grapes, every year I use a few dozen leaves for dolmas. It's called making the best of things even when they don't work out exactly as planned.

Still Life ON Gold

Day 15: In the purest interpretation of the phrase, a still life contains as one of its major elements something which was but is no longer living, i.e., life which has been stilled, such as fruits picked from a tree, flowers gathered from a garden, even (shudder) dead animals. While you will find none of the latter in my compositions, I do love a good still life although I stop short of including any of the arcane symbolism present in many historical works...or do I? Do we read into art things which are outside the artist's intentions? And is it not the place of Art to evoke interpretation? What hidden meaning might lie in this simple arrangement of seed heads and ceramics displayed against softly draped, rich fabric? Though Art addresses the eye, it also engages the mind whether by design or accident.

As still lifes go, this one is pretty basic, but I hope it stimulates you to think beyond pottery and plant matter. Have fun developing your own "read" of the photographer's constructive process!

Oregon Spring Still Life

Day 356: For the first time since I moved here over two decades ago, I have had some moderate success with full-sized tomatoes. The growing season is quite short here, a factor which previously led me to select "Sweet Million," a 60-65 day cherry tomato, nibbling them straight off the vine as they ripened. For the last several years, though, I have been lucky if I got half a dozen fruits from two vines, hardly worth the bother of keeping Bambi at bay. This year, I thought I'd try a different variety and selected "Oregon Spring." The name sounded good, anyway, as if the plants might have been developed specifically to withstand the Pacific Northwest climate. I brought them home, babied them indoors until the end of May and then stuck them in the big pot outside the back door. I saw blossoms emerge and tiny fruits begin to develop and swell. Then they continued to swell without the slightest blush appearing and I wondered why. Oh dear! I'd misread the tag! They weren't cherry tomatoes at all! Oregon Spring was a full-sized variety. I figured failure was inevitable.

Well, I picked these two before they were ripe just in case Jack Frost got moody. Nights have been in the low 40s, and that's a bit too close for comfort. Give them a few more days on the kitchen counter and they'll be ready for taste-testing. Oregon Spring may well become my garden's delight.

Gardener's Study

Day 312: Thunderstorms are not common in the Pacific Northwest like they are in so much of the rest of the country, and generally occur during the nighttime hours, although not exclusively so. I had been asleep for an hour or more when the first flash-and-crash woke me. Several more rollers tumbled through, following several seconds behind the broad brightness of lightning behind the clouds. Then came the torrent. Ten minutes of pattering, pounding rain broke against the shingles and filled the gutters. Half an hour later, the storm had passed, searching for new sleepers to awaken.

As welcome as the rain was, it took its toll. I found the tallest Rudbeckias' stalks broken six inches up from ground level, the flowers toppled over and dashed with muddy splatters. The Rain Gods had seen fit to leave the Delphiniums standing through June, so to complain would have been ungrateful. Instead, I interpreted their whims as a gift, and after rinsing the mud from the flowers under the garden hose, I brought them indoors. I don't usually cut my garden's color, though to round out the arrangement, I clipped a a few orange and yellow bits to go with the mahogany.

Basic Still Life

Day 246: Still life photography is an exercise in artistic principles. Arranging simple props such as draped fabric, flowers, fruit and vegetables, vases and baskets, the artist-photographer strives to create a visual flow from one component to the next, effectively tying together a composition in such a way that although the primary subject dominates, the remaining elements nevertheless capture the viewer's attention. In even the most basic still life, a fold of fabric may mimic the contour of a vase, background drapery may subtly frame a flower or provide visual balance. The key to a good still life is in the interaction of the elements of the composition. These are things the artist must keep in mind.

Venus Recumbent - A Nude

Day 231: Nude photography provides a unique set of challenges, not the least of which is the fine-line distinction between beauty and vulgarity, so easy to cross in posing a model. A hand in one position may be discreet; shifted an inch to the side, it may become distastefully suggestive. The graceful lines of the recumbent form can convey anything from sultry seductiveness to shy revelation. As one artist put it, what is not seen tantalizes the imagination. Uncovered, it is only exposition for exposition's sake.

Given my model's limitations, I have tried to create that which makes classic nudes something which can be admired even by those with the most Victorian morals. If you're looking for porn, just keep walking. Nothing here for you to see.