A break from the aquarium series to feature this work captured just this weekend. Rare that I exhibit a work so quickly after capturing the original image, and rare that the original image undergoes so little artistic license. This is as close to straight photography as I ever get – just some minimal exposure adjustment in Camera RAW and then very slight sharpening in Photoshop. That’s it. I haven’t even cropped it. I was so pleased with the texture and composition captured by the camera I felt like anything I added on would just spoil it. The photography itself is artsy enough.
iPhone X using Camera+ 2. Post processing in Adobe Camera RAW and Photoshop.
* * *
BTW: The photo art and prose included in any given post are separate creations having nothing to do with each other. Duality and such …
* * *
Coffee And The Raptor
He soared high in the sky on the will of the witch. The black raptor with the golden eyes flew from the little keep on the lake on warm updrafts from the sea, high over the beaches of Abionary, high enough to see the faint outline of Charleon across the narrow Grey Water. He could feel her presence behind his eyes, directing him, seeing everything he saw and possibly more, the bright sun and warm breeze brilliant in her own head as she sat in a dark room of the keep, her consciousness flying with the raptor.
She sent him further over the sea as the King’s distant castle emerged through the haze, disheveled and poorly maintained, a synonym of the King’s reign. Higher, farther until the castle receded to memory, until he hovered between it and the glaring sun, then circled closer, closer. The human bodies on the castle ramparts growing larger, animated, living creatures. A slight course correction, a little closer still, and there in the courtyard he could see the King himself, recognizable by his slovenly appearance and his schlepping little walk. He was flanked by three advisors, each trying to get a word in edgewise as the King waved his arms, clearly engaged in a characteristic rant. Closer still, hiding in the sun’s glare, the raptor focused his eyes, his ears. He could read the facial expressions, could tell who was looking at who and who was trying not to look at anyone, and slowly the syllables came to his ears, indistinct at first and then forming words, phrases, sentences and finally …
“More coffee, hon?” the young waitress accidentally bumped the table as she swirled pleasantly in his direction.
“Eh?” the old man jerked.
“Coffee?” She didn’t wait for him to answer and filled his cup. Stopped when it was full, looked at his wide eyes trying to come back to attention. “Oh, shoot,” her smile evaporated. “You were off at it, weren’t you? I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”
He shrugged. Went ahead and sipped his coffee; looked out at the blackness beyond the window. “Not to worry – we’re waiting on that new young guy to circle back anyway.”
She nodded. “We think he’s on his way, I guess that’s why I wasn’t thinking.”
He smiled at her, had no desire that she feel self-conscious. She was as he intended.
“What do you think so far,” she asked. “We don’t get a lot like him.”
“No, the old man agreed, “We don’t. I have some ideas for him, but I haven’t decided if he should just go on. Might be better if he did, but I’m not entirely sure yet.”
She nodded, pupils of her eyes rotated to the top of their sockets as she sheepishly backed away, watching his grizzled face with its grey eyes that were already seeking a focus far beyond their little diner.
He sighed when she was gone, sipped his coffee just for the hell of it, let his mind drift, his attention and imagination intertwine, his concentration sharpen to a point.
… He soared high in the sky on the will of the witch …
All my life I have had to learn to do things differently. To see the world differently.