Art is all about spontaneity, right?
It’s mid-February and I’m resting on a bench helpfully placed about 3/4 of the way through one of my regular walks in Gilbert, AZ. (Helpfully, if puzzlingly. I mean, how did they know? )
Looking up, I see striking bare branches against a background of last year’s harvest of leaves, now yellow and brown.
I play with depth of field a little bit in the field, as it were. At my winter rental home, I play with cropping and filters a little bit, and ta da! A masterpiece is born. Or at least a photograph.
Two weeks later, I rest again on the same bench but see a different view overhead.
A notion stirs in the depths. Why not take pictures of the same view, from the same vantage point, showing Spring’s progression? It would be a wee photography project for me. Maybe I could use them in a video, with cool transitions.
“Wee” turns out to be le mot juste (or la palabra justa, in that place, perhaps) for I take only two more shots before the emerging leaves close in entirely and my time in Gilbert comes to an end for 2017.
But when I compare my second shot to my first, I am less than gruntled. The change wrought just by two weeks shines through, all right, but the effect is less than I had envisaged because the shots are not similar enough. It turns out that my visual memory is not reliable enough. Given that the first shot is now irrevocably changed (oops), I can’t even start again and try for a closer match.
Art is all about planning, right?
Art seems to demand both spontaneity and planning. Unfettered creativity is unlikely to give me the results I want; lock-step stodginess is unlikely to give me results that anyone wants.
As with art, so it is with life. With the art of living, if you will.