May 18, 2024:

That blue lives in a specific place.

Unique sky, replicated nowhere.

Not at similar latitudes. Nor paintings nor reproductions. Here, only.

Home.

May 17, 2024:

F3 and tripod at dusk.

Deepening blue overhead, pink and orange fading on the western horizon, intermixing with artificial light from the park and nearby buildings. Tree limbs delicate and ghostly with timed exposure in soft evening breeze. God's work and humanity's work, painting a shared canvas.

My brain oscillating between systems. Day and night, soft light and hard, natural and artificial. All together, scrambling synapses. High from the mixtures.

These experiments with my beloved F3 picked up from where I'd been interrupted, a decade earlier, with a much cheaper camera and far more time to play around with.

To my eye the results are wonderful.

May 16, 2024:

She's like The Ideas Guy I know from the socialist left: she'll contribute opinions but not the labor necessary to realize them.

His "ideas" are pedestrian. "We should publish a theory journal like New Left Review. But, how it was back when it was good, not how it is now." Or, "We should build a new [insert name of minuscule socialist grouplet]. Only do it right, not how they did it."

Hers are presented as expertise, but universally wrong. Her own practice is all-antipattern. Social media parachute drops of marketing messages without community engagement. She'll tell you what to do with your own work, then refuse to promote it. Loudly articulated opinions, all false.

NPD. My loudly articulated opinion.