POV

The Focus Point

When you encounter a vista, or even a myriad of details that are attached to work [read: deadlines, projects, concurrent goals, e.g.], what do you see?

Everything is subjective when it comes to expressing oneself with a painting, a short story, and a photograph. I know I’ve missed a few other examples, but I listed the aforementioned for expediency.

Whether you’re taking a picture, painting a landscape or creating a marketing communication plan, sometimes we can’t see the forest for the trees, and on other occasions, every nuance, every detail and purpose comes into clear focus.

While it matters where you’re looking, other times what matters more is what you are “seeing.”

As much as I love being in Manhattan, I also love being just outside of it, in particular, just across the river in Brooklyn. There’s plenty of “city” to be found and experienced, but thankfully, the parks are terrific reminders to take it slow once in awhile.

Chrysalis

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Some call it a creative block. With credit to Franz Kafka, I feel a lot like a chrysalis because there’s something in me dying to get out, to be expressed and heard. How many times have we sat [or stood] at our work stations wondering how-in-$%@!!-name can we get something done. Where are the words, the concepts, the visual elements that when properly assembled, delivers the key message? The message can be one of benefit, of productivity, of prophylaxis, or of exclusivity. You get the idea.

Of course, all of this is figurative, but I would say that the photo of the tunnel suggests that I can see a “way out,” but I’m a bit unsure of how to get there. I’m inside the chrysalis, evolving, developing a collection of ideas, hoping to create something altogether different if not unique.

Steampunk art and my epiphany

When I first saw this wonderfully creative piano, melancholy hit me. I love the energy and imagination in its installation. However, seeing the keys made me think of days past when I just about played every day. I went through some photo files and this image crossed my screen. It was taken at the Paradise City Art Festival in Massachusetts. Then the proverbial light bulb went off.

Our upright piano, one we’ve owned for decades was a lovely gift from my mother-in-law. But like many things mechanical, especially those made of wood, the instrument became harder to keep in tune, notwithstanding the sticky keys in the scale that begins middle C. Our grandsons now “play” with this piano. Literally. Trucks, a plastic hammer, puzzle pieces, blocks and small enthusiastic hands have travelled the keys. Those small hands make the most discordant of chords, but at least there’s a type of bang-bang-bangbangbang kind of rhythm in the effort.

The epiphany came to light a few short weeks ago [pun intended]. I had asked the president of the local music community school if I could use one of their piano rooms to practice, this during my lunch hour. Eileen is an empathetic, enthusiastic and erudite person; she was kind enough to grant permission. I’ve started playing again and recalled reading an article about the brains of piano players. The one thing I’m focusing on here is the fact that playing an instrument can really help one’s thinking. Perhaps it’s why I’ve longed to play again, yet I really like playing for the sheer love of it, for playing and feeling from heart and soul. I have no evidence that shows improvements to my memory, problem solving or time management, which is fine with me. I’m more right-brained anyway.

For me, playing a musical instrument engages me in therapeutic and cathartic ways.

After The Sunset

Yes, the fireworks were entertaining, but the sunset was soul-searching…I was lucky to have both….

Pre-owned water balloons

Zombie Street

Perhaps this might be considered a new organic form of “economic indicator” for our time. Brexit was more significant than it seems.

The Bench

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The Tree

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Street Standout

The grand tradition of street photography goes back quite a ways. I suspect most of you reading and looking at this probably weren’t born yet. Indeed, perhaps your parents weren’t even born yet. Much of that photography was done in B&W and much of what does happen with street photography today is still black&white.

I though back to the time I saw this homeless person and asked myself, “What caught my attention?” This is what stood out in my recollection.

Marketing Idioms in the Snow

Everyday life is filled with idioms. Sometimes I think of them as bridges connecting a concept, a service, a product, even a person. After a snowfall, the gates open and I’m at the mercy of a brain that works to find a metaphor, an idiomatic expression, a slice each of the expected, unexpected and infrequently, something on the order of the unimaginable.

My favorite type of snow is the dry, fluffy stuff. It may not pack well to create a snowball or a snowman, but it’s easy to shovel off a driveway or brush off a car. For many skiers, fresh powder is nirvana: how can this get any better?

This kind of snowfall encourages you to look around. The cars are covered like blankets. Flat, open fields are akin to a slice of white bread. The trees look powdered by confectionary sugar. This kind of snow is a visible version of a special aura. Whatever is under the snow takes on another quality. Attributes of beauty, protection, secrecy, purity, freshness are some that come to mind. “Use _____ soap because it’s as pure as the driven snow.”

In this case, snow isn’t all that bad now, is it?

Rainbow Connection

If you’re curious, you’ll find my most recent post here.