Gas Station

I suffer for my art, such as it is. The art, I mean. The suffering, like the struggle, is real. This, for example, was a nasty cold-windy day in Winterpeg just two days before it became Winnerpeg, and we’d stopped at the on-airport gas station to wait for a flight to arrive, there being no formal cell-phone waiting lot. That amazed me.

Reflections amaze me, too: I realize I have neither a technical nor an intuitive understanding of what will show up where. That doesn’t stop me from enjoying them, especially a double one like this.

Gas stationreflection in windshield and hood

 

8 Comments

    1. Isabel Gibson

      Barbara – Thanks! You just made mine. I try to maximize the reflection in the image by cropping out the thing hosting it, but some remains inevitably. And necessarily, I guess, for context and visual comprehensibility.

    1. Isabel Gibson

      Laurna – Many thanks. A photographer I know in Scotland suggested that I make a reflection video this year, but my computer would not cooperate. I think he saw my (slight, very slight) interest in or love of reflections.

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