I’ve always been interested in how different people see things differently. This holds true for my photographs.
The photo above introduced me to another artist. A writer attending Utah State University, Alex Baldwin. Alex wrote in an email:
Tonight I just found your beautiful photo from 2009 of a feather in a bottle and was wondering if I could use it on the Cover page of my project. My project is actually about the author Sherman Alexie but he addresses often the problem of alcoholism on reservations, so your photo would be perfect!
Alex was awarded USU’s Creative Writing Student of the Year and USU’s Overall Outstanding English Student of the Year. This email started a great dialogue with Alex about his work and my photography. I was more than happy to help out.
By the way, the photo above that Alex found was really just something I was using to demonstrate how I achieved the photo I was after. I was on a weekend outing with two wonderful friends. I was trying to figure out how to capture the texture and color of the feather. The beer bottle and the twist tie just happened to be convenient! How very interesting that my “example” made a completely different impression on Alex. Here is my finished product for comparison:
I was excited when Alex sent me a short piece so I could share it with you. I look forward to reading his creative portfolio that he turned in for graduation (where he is using the photograph.)
So, here is an example of Alex’s work. I hope you enjoy!
What is that Sound High in the Air
A mist, too thick for a waking sun,
slouches against mountains
east of Cache Valley,
and somehow turns January snow
blue: leftover scraps of sky
draping the view
Students, dozens, rush
by: cell phones flipped open,
ears clogged with iPods,
palms warm to the foam
touch of cups brim
with hot chocolate.
Cat Stevens hopes I have a lot
of nice things to wear,
a sideways smiley-face
buzzes in my right hand:
Sapphire’s in for lunch
at Quadside Café,
OJ from Einstein’s Bagels
sloshes almost empty to my stride.
Ten minutes away from a class
starting in five, I give ten seconds
of semester to the mist,
imagine my Faded Glory
treads climbing air.
Could I summit before losing myself
in absence of up and down?
Like a bluebird spreading
a shiver of feathers
and a lake of glacier run-off.
Alex can be contacted at: [email protected]