A frank discussion about sex. And praying mantises.

Do you know what the female praying mantis does after mating with the male praying mantis?

She bites his head off, and eats him! I guess you can't say she sacrifices a virgin, but it's pretty darn close!

Which begs two questions?

Does he realize what's about to happen to him? 

And is it worth it?

The answer to both of those questions is: He's a guy.

Have you ever noticed that males think about sex constantly?

This is not a stereotype. We really do. It's not always in the forefront of our minds (contrary to popular belief), but it's always lurking somewhere just off stage. The problem is, although intellectually we know the truth, biologically we believe that each time we have sex may just be our last. And that's pretty hard to bear. So we think that if we just hint and remind and constantly bring it up, then you (the female) will not forget about sex.


We're pretty sure you will otherwise.

It's rather humiliating, but the alternative is unthinkable.

As a sexually driven male (is there another kind?) our Praying Mantis friend is likely pretty stupid. This is what happens when the limited amount of blood in your body spends it's time some place other than your brain. But he has to wonder what ever happened to some of his buddies.

"You know, I haven't seen Frank around much, since he hooked up with Wilma. And Jerry hasn't come by since he met that hot little Tenodera Aridifolia Sinensis number. And Bobby...hey, wait a minute...something's going on here..."

But, before he can figure it out, She walks by. And his fate is sealed.

And even if he knew what she would do to him, he would still make his move. I would bet my last dollar on it.

Why you ask?

Because it's going to be the BEST.SEX.OF.HIS.LIFE!!

Yep. It's late. And I'm tired.

(But, I'm never too tired for sex. Let me be clear about that)

Photography by a Dummy

A couple of months ago, I had the opportunity to teach a class on photography. It was a very interesting, and nerve wracking experience. See, I don't do things the way other people do them. Most of the time I learn things the hard way, and in an expression of my "male-ness," I NEVER ask for directions. I work at something, and weary it, until I finally get ahold of it. I do this with my photography, and I do it with my piano playing.

And it's not that I'm displeased with the results, it's just that it's not a very teaching-friendly process. So, I have generally tried to avoid ever being put into a situation where someone might ask me to teach photography. I had to avoid being put into the situation, because I'm such a push over, that I knew if I were ever asked, I wouldn't be able to refuse.

Well, they caught me, and I said yes.

What surprised me, as I prepared (overly so) to teach thirty women how to take pictures, was to find that I actually had something to say.

Since that time, I've been considering refining what I said, and making it a little more comprehensive -- not to mention more comprehendable -- so that next time (should that fateful day ever come), I won't sound like such a babbling idiot. And that's where you come in, dear blog readers: for the next several Sundays, I'm going to give you a crash course in Photography according to Chris.

Or,

Photography by a Dummy.

So, here goes:

Lesson One: Philosophy

I get asked, from time to time, what makes a good picture. My photographic philosophy, in a nutshell, is this: if you like it, it's a good picture.

Photography is art, and the word art is short for articulation -- the act of giving utterance or expression. Art is something we create and whether it is drawing, singing, dancing, painting or photography, it is our personal expression to the world.

To create art, is to gather the elements that surround us, and form them into something unique in the Universe -- something no one has ever seen before. It is an expression of the divine that exists within each one of us. You have the right to create it, and you have the right to call it good.

Having said that, it's one thing to express yourself, it's something else entirely to be understood.

I can bang away on a piano, in a fit of self expression, and clear the room in seconds. No one is obligated to appreciate or even to acknowledge me.

But, if I learn some of the fundamentals, if I learn how to read the music and what notes sound good together, if I begin to grasp the ideas of rhythm and timing, then I just might get a few of you to stick around.

Eventually, if I practice, and if I refine and hone my skills, I will create something sublime. I may even begin to draw you in to hear what I have to say.

When we express ourselves to the world, it's because we have something to say. We need to learn to communicate.

We take pictures for two basic reasons: to document, and to remember. Most people want to take nice pictures, but most also treat their camera as a piece of documentation equipment. I want you to learn to think of your cameras in a different way. I want you to stop thinking of your camera as a piece of recording equipment. Your camera is your pen, it is your paintbrush.

The camera is no longer a documenter, it is a storyteller.

Next Week:

The Photographer's Code (more guidelines than actual rules...)

Rambling and incoherent babbling about signposts. Read on.

Have you ever started blogging, with a vague idea in mind, just to see where it would go?

Well, that's what I'm doing tonight. And I make NO promises.

I've been thinking about signposts.

Specifically, pop culture signposts. As we travel the road of our lives, we periodically pull over and erect a signpost, to commemorate an event, that will shape the course of our life. Maybe historical marker would be a better term than signpost, but I'm not going to keep writing "historical marker" over and over again. And it seems we often stamp these sign posts with a piece of pop art.

What got me thinking about this was listening to a podcast today, called the "Grizzly Bear Egg Cafe." It's put on by two guys, Clayton Morris and Mike Quackenbush, who are probably five years younger than I am, so they're in their very early thirties. These two have been best friends all their lives, and their podcast is about whatever they happen to want to talk about -- which is often about the pop culture of their childhood, and not infrequently about Transformers. And, specifically, about the Transformers Movie -- not the Shia LeBouf film, but the animated movie from 1986.

Apparently this movie has a MASSIVE following from people just a few years younger than me. As a child of the 70's and 80's -- a smack dab in the middle of it, Generation Xer -- I am fairly saturated with pop culture, but I have NEVER seen this movie. I only vaguely recall that there even was one. But for the next generation -- the Generation they call "Y" -- it's a defining moment in their lives.

And that's my point -- if I actually have one -- they don't love this movie because it  was a fantastic piece of cinema (it may or may not have been), they love it because it reminds them of their childhood. Not the chores and the homework or the daily drudgery of life childhood, but the idealized childhood of their imaginations. The Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn childhood. They've erected a monument to youth.

We all do this, and we stamp a pop culture image on to it to make it recognizable, and easier to see (and remember) as we look back down the path that we've been traveling.

Sometimes the images on these sign posts are relevant, and sometimes they're just random. I find that fascinating. For instance, whenever I hear the song "The Living Years" by Mike and the Mechanics, I think about driving home one winter evening when I was sixteen, after having just kissed a certain girl. That song has nothing to do with High School romance of any sort -- it would be more appropriate to think of my late father (but when I think of his funeral, I think of Sarah McLachlan's "Full of Grace").

But when I think of the night I proposed to my wife, it's always accompanied by Celine Dion singing "When I fall in love," from the Sleepless in Seattle soundtrack.

For those of us born under the sign of "X" there are a lot of these signposts, but there are two that loom larger than anything else.

Star Wars and Indiana Jones.

These two movie franchises permeate some aspect of my life to this day. I may not be out playing  with Star Wars figures (then again, I just may), or even watching the movies. But they are always there. They are integrated into my very thought processes. I think, morally, in terms of the light and dark sides of the Force. Yoda is one of the most profound philosophers in history to me (Wars not make one great. Try not. Do or do not. There is no try.)

I trace my intense love of history directly back to December 9, 1981 -- the night I sat in the giant Villa Theater, watching Raiders of the Lost Ark, for my best friend Aaron's ninth birthday.

Some people would find these notions ridiculous -- the idea that Star Wars is the most profound piece of philosophy in the last two hundred years -- and I wouldn't blame them, it is. But no one ever said that truth isn't ridiculous. And, I'd be willing to bet that they have a few of these sacred historical markers of their own.

So, as you look back down the path of your lives, what images appear on your signposts?

The Last Day of School!!

School was here, but now it's gone

Ring the bells and dance 'til dawn

Summer's come, sing Freedom's song

Carry on kids, carry on. 

Have fun! You've earned it!

(mostly)

Photostory Friday: 365 Week 22

Hosted by Chris

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Hosted by Cecilyand Krista

Day 147

May 28: Emma's hair had natural curl to it, from the day she was born, until the day of her first haircut. It's been straight as an arrow (just like all the rest of us) ever since.

Except for Thursday night, when Jordan put Emma's hair in curlers.

Friday morning, Emma was the definition of glamour.

By Friday afternoon, Emma looked like Medusa -- but that's another story.

Day 148

May 29: One last tulip picture, before they fade away.

And, I was already laying on the ground, and was too lazy to get up.

It was a holiday weekend, and that's how I roll.

Day 149

May 30: The engagement session with Kelsey and Matt.

I had asked the groom, Matt (duh), to jump up and click his heels together.

I'm not sure what he's ACTUALLY doing, but I think it's a cool shot.

Now that I really look at it, I think he's taking flight.

It's a bird! It's a plane! NO! It's Groom Man!

Day 150

May 31: Do you remember Wilson, the volley ball with the bloody handprint for a face, who costarred with Tom Hanks in Castaway?

This is his down-on-his-luck and leprous second cousin.

He's been leaving little pieces of himself all over the yard, the house, my car...

Day 151

June 1: New shoe day is always a great day when you're a kid.

Nothing in the world feels the same as a new pair of shoes -- and you never really realize how decrepit your old shoes have become, until you slip the new ones on.

I was a classic "New Shoe Kid." I believed they made me run faster, and jump higher. Well that, and the  fact that I was 1/32 Paiute. :)

I also secretly hoped they'd point the babes in my direction. Of course, that was the motivation for pretty much everything I did...

Day 152

June 2: The First Rose of Summer. And companion.

This beautiful flower sacrificed it's life seconds later, when I turned it ever so slightly for better light, and it snapped off in my hand.

Day 153

June 3: I don't do a lot of things right, and my memory is hit and miss, but the one date I never forget is June 3, 1994.

The day she said yes.

I've tried to acknowledge the day that Sharon agreed to marry me, each year, with some kind of small gift.

It's the least I can do to thank her for giving me love and a life beyond my capacity to describe.

The ring is an Irish Claddagh Ring. It is a centuries old design, and deeply symbolic. The hands holding the heart symbolize friendship, the heart is love, and the crown at the top stands for loyalty.

Incidentally, the little box was hand carved in Russia, out of birch bark.

Stuff my son says...#1

A new, semi-occasional addition to the blog.

(Also known as filler, for those times when I don't know what else to write about)

Matthew is my son.

My only son.

He is the kindest hearted kid you'll ever meet. There is not a malicious bone in his body. I have tremendous affection for Matt.

Matt will stop what he is doing -- whatever he is doing -- if it means he has a chance to spend time with me. I cannot express how that makes me feel, nor can I express the regret that those times are more infrequent than I would like. But the sign of a true friend is that they pick right up where you last left off, regardless of time or distance. Not only is he my only son, but Matthew is also one of my greatest friends.

And he says the funniest things.

I thought I'd share a classic bon mot with you tonight:

The scene: Matthew, age four,  has just finished a rigorous day of preschool. I have picked him up, and we're headed home. I ask him what he did in school today. Matthew, who makes an art out of vagueness, nonchalantly responds:

"Today we learned about the "F" word..."

Pause.

"And then me and a girl did it."

After Sharon and I stop laughing and start breathing again, and after I pull the car out of oncoming traffic, we are able to coax out of a VERY perplexed Matthew that the aforementioned "F" word was, in fact, "Fishing."

A Unique Perspective.

Ok. 

Let's give this "posting every day" thing another shot. 

A photographer's perspective is very unique.

If you're doing your job right, you'll disappear into the background, and when that happens you get the chance to see life happen.

We don't often get to stop and watch life being lived -- we're busy living in the moment. And that's ok.

But life is poetry, and that poetry is written in the smile lines, and the curve of our bodies and the way that we walk, and the way we hold one another, and the way our fingers lightly touch.  We smile like we never smile in photographs. We laugh and dance -- we let our guard down. We love with our whole hearts. Every smile and tear, each breath and embrace, writes another line in the poem of our lives.

And, as a photographer, I get to enclose myself in a small box, and watch the epic world story being written -- one child at a time, two lovers at a time. It's a rare opportunity, and one I've come to cherish more and more lately.

For many years my great photographic joy has been capturing the lives and adventure of my children's lives. But lately, I've found new passion and fulfillment in capturing the blossoming of young love, in the eyes and smiles, and embraces of couples starting out on the long, difficult, wonderful journey that is marriage. Each couple is unique, but they're all writing the same story.

I hope you enjoy a few pictures from the Engagement session with Kelsey and Matt.