The Critique

If there is one thing that stuck with me from the Open House that SPF and I attended at Brooks back in October, it would be this sentiment: "Brooks is not an art school." That is to say, when you learn perfect technique; crisp negatives, professional printing, and a critical eye for dodging and burning; you still have to please the client. During the Open House, one of the parents chimed "But what if my daughter really likes the image? Why should she get a bad grade?" The speaker replied, "Because I am the client. You have to please me. The grade I choose to give you is payment."

Today, I presented my first work to my client.

The assignment was "A Day in the Life of Santa Barbara." Two images as perfect as you can make them and returned to the client for inspection.

There are several different "payments" that you can receive, listed below from best to worst.

- Pass
- Remount
- Reprint
- Reshoot

A Pass is a completed assignment. No more worries, move on to the next task. A remount is not so terrible because you have a good negative and you know how to print it, you just need to practice mounting more. A reprint is slightly worse, because that means that your negative has potential, but you haven't mastered printing technique. A reshoot means you are not getting it. Any of it.

The Client reviewed a lot of work today. My first image was reviewed about halfway through the Critique. This is the image that I already knew that The Client liked, seeing as how I had gotten the thumbs up of approval during printing. He had glowing praise. So much so that not only was it a Pass, but he recommended that I set this aside for one of the Final Five assignments. This is a huge compliment. It means that not only is the negative excellent, the print well printed, and the mounting appropriate, but The Client actually approves of the subject, composition, and presentation of the greater thought.

My second image was the last that he reviewed. The one that other members of my class had actually gasped at (well, one had a sharp inhalation before she told me how beautiful it was.) The one that I was stunned by. The one that, right before it was reviewed, the girl next to me said "Yours will pass for sure" with a look of sheer confidence and reassurance to my anxiety.

What happened next I was not expecting.

The Client picked it up, reviewed it for a moment, and reacted to the image with what can only be described as apathy. His comment was "There is nothing wrong with this print except for the image. It is exposed correctly, printed correctly, has good contrast and tonal range, but the image doesn't do anything for me."

To this my instinct replied "No! This is the definition of beauty! This is a classical woman with classical features presented with a background that has been diminished to further accentuate her cheeks, her eyes, her locks. You have to like her. You should be overcome with emotion at the sight of her!"

My actual reply? "Okay."

Why, you ask? This is not an art school. I am here to learn to read my client, to present to them what they want by using the tools and the expertise that I garner from this school and my education. My Client is all that matters.

And what of Mona, you ask? I will love her, frame her, and place her on my wall, because with myself as the client, I couldn't be happier. The art comes in to play when I print what I want to print for no one but myself. But I am not here for the art at the moment, and what I learn here will only bolster the closet artist. Do not fret, friends. This blow, though unexpected, is not proving detrimental. Mostly because I understand more about My Client, as well as understanding more about myself and my tastes.

Do you still want to follow my adventures?

Mona

I don't even know where to begin. Today was... Well, let me start at the beginning.

As evidenced by my previous post, I had lost a great deal of confidence. Confidence in my "eye," which I have never before doubted, confidence in my conceptual understanding, confidence in my decision to come here, and, ultimately, confidence in myself.

So despite a great nights sleep (no kitties or SPF) I awoke with the same kind of oppressive depression that overtakes me whenever self-doubt is particularly cruel. None the less, I knew I had to get up, I had to develop the two rolls of film that I shot yesterday, and I had to print the proof sheets, pick two images, print them, and mount them all before I could leave the darkroom today.

I already knew that I had switched the function of the aperature in my mind, so I already knew that one roll that was supposed to have minimal depth of field was going to have precise and extensive depth of field. Not what I had wanted to go for and therefore a depressing fact. I also got yelled at a lot by locals during the shooting of my second roll yesterday, so instead of casual portraits with natural light, I knew that I had shots of a more vaueristic quality, where my subjects rarely, if ever, knew I was there. But I'll be damned if the depth of field wasn't right this time.

I got to the darkroom at 9:00 a.m. as soon as it opened. I developed both rolls and I extended the amount of fix this time to prevent the same fix drama from the day before.

Try to imagine my dismay when, yet again, the negatives were not fixed properly and I had to REFIX THEM AGAIN! This is getting old. I wanted to kill someone. I almost threw random things across the room. I almost tried to put my fist through the wall. But I didn't. I took my re-fixed negatives and I made the first contact sheet. My instructor liked one of the images, so I thought I would try to print it. After the test print he and I decided on an exposure time and an increase in filter. I printed the image again, made one more filter adjustment, and it was done. I took it back to him and said "Is the detail in the white sufficient? Are the blacks black enough? Should I burn and dodge anything?"

He replied, simply, "No."

"No? So this is okay?"

"Yep. Just as it is."

Just as it is. For those of you who have printed black and white, you understand that the excercise of exposing a perfect negative is difficult. If you have a perfect negative, then you have to find a way to perfectly print it, and even then, you usually have to adjust something in the print that is detracting from the overall composition. I did none of these things. Just as it is meant no burning, no dodging. It meant that not only was the negative worthy, but the printing had been precise, the contrast perfect, and the composition arranged in such as way as to eliminate the need for further manipulation.

Okay. I'll take it. That is a confidence boost. No problem. He looked at the remainder of the proof sheet and picked another that he wanted to see. At that point he announced that he was leaving for the day and waved a general goodbye to the class. And then, to me, and only me, he held a thumbs up and nodded once in approval. Hee hee heeeee. I got a thumbs up head nod approval.

Okay, I'll take that too. Doobie doobie doobie. This would be the point in time when I brought out the iPod and cranked The Chemical Brothers. I returned to the contact sheet and looked at the image that he had chosen. I didn't care for it. The background was distracting, which was particularly painful because I had intended it to be a diffuse blur. So I decided to make a proof sheet of the second roll, which I had little hope for.

And there she was. My muse, my Rembrandt, my Da Vinci - a perfect expression made with perfect features of creamy, smooth skin. The background was diffuse, as well as almost solid black, accentuating her features and perfectly shinning halo of golden locks. Locks. I swear to you, locks. Her black jacket was perfectly discernable from the wall, her white shirt framing her neck and face, hands crossed demurely in her lap.

She was very easy to print, and after less than an hour I had a print that would have sufficed, but I wasn't satisfied. The background faded to gray in the corner and drew the attention of the eye away from the portrait. So I burned the corner in. I made an almost equivalent print twelve times before I had one that was perfect. And so I took both prints, mounted them, and now they sit on my desk waiting for Monday because my first assignment is finished.

CONFIDENCE!!!! CONFIDENCE!!!! CONFIDENCE!!!! CONFIDENCE!!!!

So, A Lot of You Have Been Asking Me About School

It is hard work. We have two assignment assigned and due next week. We also have three research papers to research and write. I spent the entire day in the darkroom today. I developed my first negatives since college and found out that I really suck. Learned a lot, though. I learned that when everyone gets fix from the same container and no one has any issues with it, my negatives won't fix. Maybe it is alphabetical discrimination. Maybe God is mad that I was mad that I didn't get any sleep. Maybe I am just plum unlucky. I haven't been able to figure out why, with no variable differences, everyone else succeeded where I failed. Luckily for me, this place is bursting with a plethora of brilliant photographers and I was told of a trick to salvage my images.

No reason to do so, apparently, because they were all out of focus. All of them. I have no idea what happened, but I now have to reshoot my first assignment and I haven't even started on the second assignment. I know that my eyes suck, but this is very frustrating. I have one quasi focused image. I am hoping to get at least one more so that I have something to turn in for the first assignment. As long as I get it in on time, I can reshoot.

Beyond that I have written two of the research papers and one extra credit paper because I am starting to think that I will need all of the extraneous help that I can get. The first critique is going to be horrendous. I dread it with every fiber of my being. Tomorrow I am going reshooting, then to class, then reshooting, then to the darkroom to develop the reshoots and hopefully at that point I will have at least one image that is truly presentable. I don't want to fail the first assignment. Talk about a confidence Death Star.

Very Funny, God

For the first two weeks of my education at Brooks I had a little bit of trouble sleeping. That trouble was named Brooks. The cat, not the school. (I know. Retrospectively the cat name might have been short-sighted.) None the less, Kitten Brooks was lonely during my days at class and therefore slept, which means that when I got home it was time to play. All night long.

Her games usually started with the "leap onto the mound under the covers!" which are feet. If the mound-feet moved, she would freak out and jump. If the mound-feet stayed painstakingly still, she would freak out and jump. When the mound-feet no longer provided entertainment, it was time to bite the mound-feet, which yielded a wonderful pitching and rolling carnival ride. This was every night, practically every hour. SPF and I devised a way to get two hours of sleep with The Toy. The toy is a collection of soft, mouse colored feathers on the end of a long string attached to a plastic rod. K. Brooks loves The Toy. Admittedly, K. Brooks is a little, well, fat. She is a chunk of kitten. The first night, she was so tired after her exercise that when I poked her she did not respond and I was afraid we had killed her, but alas, she just slept.

Kittens, aside from being generally resistant to the stupid things that they do like jumping into plate glass windows, also recoup their energy and fitness apparently quickly. Thus being the case, the second night she slept for an hour, and the following, she was not only not tired after The Toy, but she apparently wanted to play more. Very tiring existence.

So I admit that as SPF and I headed down to San Diego last weekend with K. Brooks in tow and I knew that at the end of the road lay a comfortable bed and, more importantly, doors that could be closed, I giggled with anticipation. Upon nearing our condo, my eyes grew wide with disbelief. The road was blocked with new construction signs. Not the old signs, the ones that we have had for a year, but new ones. Ones that specifically demonstrated the lack of the previously semi-permanent construction blockers.

"No." We both said in unison, our pupils shrinking in terror.

Yep. There it was. The Machine. The one that The City employed on the famed night of repaving. It had just started. The noise, the shaking, the beeping, the incessant beeping. And the irony is that SPF and I had planned on staying up that night and decided to come back a night early since I didn't have class. Early. Meaning that our original plan would have spared us The Machine and a repeat of the aforementioned night of repaving. My delirium has reached a new high. Or is it low?

And So It Begins

My first actual class was yesterday. It was scheduled to be three hours long. It was three hours long. You know how when you go to college your first class is always "Here is the syllabus, here our the class policies, be sure to read such and such chapter and I will see you on Wednesday?" Yeah, we don't have time for that. We have seven weeks total and every class counts. So, it our first class, we got the introduction from the Student Advocate, a brief statement from the Student Affairs department, and then we took attendance. From that point forward, everything was class. Actual learning. And I have to be honest. After three years of photography at one of the best high schools in the country, and two solid years of photography in college, the stuff that I learned yesterday has NEVER been so clearly presented and defined. I was scribbling mad notes as soon as the instructor started to talk, mostly because I had never heard what he was saying. This is going to be quite a ride.

We already have our first assignment for a photo shoot, as well as seven chapters to read between two books, and three opinion papers assigned (to be completed throughout the class duration.) My goal? To have the first assignment shot before class today, to have all three papers done tomorrow, and to be ready to reshoot, reprint, reconceptualize every other assignment for the rest of the class. There is also an extra credit assignment already on the table. I imagine that if I don't do that, I will regret it later, so, with that in mind, there are also two lectures that I have to attend in the next week.

Sir, Yes Sir!!

I know that a lot of you have heard me refer to Brooks as Photography Boot Camp. I admit that I never really thought in those terms, but it was fun to say.

That is, until I met one of the instructors, a formal Navy career man.

He got his photographic education from the Navy. Literally in photography boot camp! Apparently it was something like ten hours a day, five days a week of nothing but photography and associated photographic education for six solid months. No breaks. He is a very jovial guy, but it was somewhat disconcerting that he compared his education to that which I am about to receive.

This would be where the camera would zoom in and watch my pupils shrink to tiny dots.

OH ECK!!!

Well, today was day one of the infamous "journey" to becoming a professional photographer.

The day started, as all important days should, with Brooks pouncing on my feet at 4:00 in the morning. Despite my threats, bribes, coos, and unmitigated anger, she wouldn't go back to sleep. So, when my alarm went off at 7:00 (luckily I found a decent radio station and was alerted of the time by the Red Hot Chili Peppers) I was...let's just say less than pleased.

But, up I had to get, so I started the shower and splashed some luke-warm/cold/scalding water in my eyes and tried to wake up with little sleep to keep me going. (To be fair, I don't know if I would have slept anyway, but she made sure I didn't.) After showering and the usually "getting ready" I went into the kitchen to make breakfast. I don't have any idea what happened, but breakfast ended up all over me, all over the kitchen, and all over the floor. Seeing as how breakfast has cocoa powder in it, of course Brooks wanted to lick it off of the floor before it had time to splash properly.

Panicked for her health, my outfit, and my diminishing spare time, I cleaned up the floor, rinsed off my favorite pair of jeans, and ripped off the shirt. The shirt that I have been planning to wear to my first day for A MONTH! The shirt that I feel comfortable in. The shirt that reminds me of home, reminds me that I am a mature woman with experience, well-dressed with a casual flare (the jeans) and confident. THIS WAS MY CONFIDENCE OUTFIT!! I remade breakfast in my skivvies, just to be sure, and then donned my day two outfit. I had not planned for day three, so I am screwed for tomorrow and will undoubtedly end up in Full Metal because it makes me smile. It also makes me look like a juvenile anime geek, so we'll see how that goes.

It was also raining. I don't know how many of you know this, but my sunroof leaks. On the driver's side. Right on the "ass cheek" part of the seat. Fun times. So, with a renewed panic, I got into my car and felt around to see if I was going to get my THIRD bath for the day, but was relieved to see that the water hadn't saturated the seat and I should be able to make it to orientation without too much drama.

Traffic was okay. I had planned my route the day before and knew exactly where I was going to exit, where I was going to turn left, and where I was going to park. I was over anxious and parked in the parking lot three blocks south of where I meant to park. So, rather than moving (I don't know why) I huffed the three blocks in the rain with "pinky" my umbrella companion.

The orientation desk was outside of the theater. Outside, in the rain. There was a line. Granted, it was a misty rain by this point, but still, come on people. This is the conversation before mine.

Boy - Welcome to Brooks! Your name?
Girl - Jane Doe
Boy - Excellent. Well, it looks like you will be taking the placement exam tomorrow at two, so be prepared for that and if you have any questions about what will be covered, be sure to ask Student Management.
Girl - Thanks.
Boy - Have a great day!

I was right behind her and heard the whole conversation. It was then my turn. Here was my conversation.

Boy - Welcome to Brooks! Your name?
Me - AQ-F.
B - So, is that AQ-F like traditional, or are you married.
Me - Um. Married.
B - Cool. How long have you been married?
Me - Two years.
B - Wow. Congratulations.
Me - Um. Thanks.
B - So you already have a degree? What in?
Me - Film Studies.
B - Great! (Fumbling around for paperwork that his coworker has already handed me.) So, let's see, you'll need one of these.
Me - Got it.
B - Right! Okay, you will also need one of these...
Me - Yeah...got that too.
B - Right! Have a great orientation!

Is it just me or is that weird? He was very nice. He reminded me a lot of Mr. N (mostly in appearance) and that made me miss Kung Fu. (Oh hey, by the by, got my blue sash, for those of you that don't know, or did I blog about that??)

Anyway, I went inside and found...nothing. No one. Empty space. I swear that every other person who had been in line had just come in this way, but this space was vacant. Okay.... So, being not timid, shy, or in any other way inhibited (yeah, right) I milled around the seats trying to determine where I should sit. During my milling, two more people came in and sat in the second row. Right, second row, cool. I can do that. Second row. So I sat next to a friendly looking girl and started up a conversation. (Yes, yes, I know, you can all close your gaping jaws now.) She was very nice and we talked until the orientation started.

LOTS OF IMPORTANT BROOKS INFORMATION GOES HERE!!

After that we had a break. I went up to meet my Admissions Rep who I have been speaking to on at least a monthly basis since August and simply had to meet in person. I hugged her. She is the reason I am at Brooks now. She and I and a fellow San Diegan (who has a fiance and a six month old baby girl) struck up a conversation. Then another rep started in and my new SD buddy (I will call him ST) and I talked with that woman for the extent of the intermission. I missed my chance to get hot chocolate, but both of them were very nice.

Then came lunch. I was going to go with nice girl that I met at the beginning, but she went off one way and I was too sheepish to follow her, so I ate a remarkably fast lunch and walked around SB for an hour. I made it back to the theater before anyone else and eventually NG came up and sat next to me. She surprised my by taking a half-knit scarf out of her bag and starting up work on it. She reminded me of JQ in her multitude of artistic talents. It was beautiful. Then ST walked up and he and I started a conversation about medical devices (I know, crazy) and it turns out that he has a Bio Chemistry degree and knows a lot about my former industry. We talked about it (and all of my previous woes) until the second half of orientation started up.

The second half was a group-oriented photographic scavenger hunt. We had to run around downtown SB in search of elements that we could photograph that represented items on the list. For instance, Italian Cuisine - picture of a restaurant, Something Sacred - picture of Ganeesha.

My first was Something Lucky. You will never believe this. I had in mind what I was hunting for, but couldn't find it. And then, out of the blue, there was the PERFECT answer. The same design that I have on My Lucky Flogging Molly T-Shirt (reference past post) was on a tee in the front window of a shop and I knelt down to get it. Granted, it has a four-leaf clover on it, but more importantly, it has personal meaning for me!!! Lucky indeed.

I also got a picture of Paseo Nuevo (the local mall) and the courthouse. There are supposed to be prizes for the best and most creative shots. We shall find out about those on Friday.

Then we met back to meet some local vendors and then I came home. And then I wrote this. And then I wrote that I wrote this. Hmmmm. This could perpetuate.

Ultimately, the whole thing starts again tomorrow. Hopefully just not at 4:00 am.

My Days

Until school starts, this endless waiting is compressing my spirit. In the mornings I wake up around 7:00, when the light is full in the room where I live and the blinds glow luminous white. I open my eyes, look at the clock, cover my head and sleep until 9:30.

When I do finally rise, it is to the shower I wander. As I shower, Brooks waits at the door, occasionally striking out at a water droplet and never reaching her goal. Then I get dressed, and Brooks will choose an article of clothing as her nemesis and wrestle me for it. Then eat breakfast, and Brooks, having been fed at 6:00, moans at the lack of food in her bowl. And then I clean the entire house. Entire house, every morning. It is spotless. Ridiculously, impeccably spotless. Everything is in it's place. Everything has a place, which is strange enough for me.

I then spend about an hour playing with Brooks until she is tired of me. Even in her boredom, she is usually no more than four feet from me at any time. Don't get me wrong, there isn't that much space in this place, but there is enough that she could get farther away if she choose.

Then I head out for the day's tasks. Whatever they may be. I have explored Santa Barbara. A lot. I a pretty confident that I know where the campuses are, where the meeting hall is, the bank, the grocery store, the drug store, the mission, the park, the restaurants and the shops. This usually takes about two hours. Then I find my way back to Jeannine's, a little bakery and cafe that SPF and I found that has become my second home. They don't recognize me yet, but give them time. The food is beyond compare, the service glowing, and the clientele somehow quiet and respectful. Today I had a goat cheese salad with spinach, tomatoes, and cucumbers. It took a long time to prepare, which I was starting to worry about, until it arrived and the goat cheese was breaded and had been recently baked. Very recently. It was heaven. I hope that I can have it again tomorrow. Mostly, though, it is nice just to have a place that feels somehow familiar. Which it does, even if only after two days.

After that I meander back to the studio, ponder bothering SPF at work, and have a conversation with Brooks. It goes something like this:

B - Meow!
A - Hello to you, too.
B - Meow.
A - Sorry, but you'll have to get used to it. I'm going to be gone during the days.
B - Meowwww!!!
A - I already told you, one meal in the morning, one at night. You have gotten chunky.
B - Mmm.
A - I'm sorry, it's true. I am doing this for your own good.
B - MEOOOOWWWWW!!!
A - Fine!!! Just a little snack.

At which point I feed her a tiny portion of food as a snack. She repays me by sitting on my lap while I read or surf the net or blog.

Plus there is a new development. Whenever anyone walks by the door she growls. Yes, growls. I have never heard a cat do this, but my dog used to when I was in high school. A low, guttural warning of a growl. It is a quiet growl, but convincing. She is my guard kitty.

At this point I will either go out for fast food or open a can of soup. Then we sit around for another hour reading or surfing the net or blogging. After that, she cries again to let me know that it is her turn, I feed her the real dinner and I eventually break down and go by a movie at the drug store that I can watch that night. There are really only two criteria. 1. It must be purported to be good and 2. It must be widescreen. I have actually passed up owning films such as Air Force One and The Highlander because they are full screen. Hard to watch. Yuck.

I now own three new DVDs. Sigh. I need school to start.

South

It is so fascinating to me the multiple meanings one word, phrase, concept can have. At the moment, South is on my mind.

It is South of here where my husband is, and South that my mood travels as I wile away the hours and the minutes and the ticking seconds.

South, the band's new album, will not load on my iTunes, as if rejecting my misplaced locale.

South, the band's first album, is my current motivating soundtrack as I write this.

South is where my hope lies in the weekends.

South (and West) is where my roots still live, though stretched out to the coast.

South is where my support lives, lifting me all the way to my dream, to the clouds, and all the way up North, where I sit now.