Tarmac ribbons criss-crossing the landscape, dusty back roads twisting between the cool shadows of ancient pines, and less traveled pathways connecting present to past, all I wander, seeking, seeing, with my keyboard and camera capturing scenes and stories to share with you.

Now in its seventh year, this venue has become an important part of my life, a place where I can express my thoughts and feelings about the things I see and do, hoping the process brings me a bit closer to friends and family who enjoy sharing my sometimes chaotic and often nonlinear observations and ideas. A journal, I suppose, but one with which I find pleasure in thinking others are alongside me on my journey.

Comments, thoughts, or just a friendly chat, use the response box below or email me at patrickgroleau@gmail.com.

July 20, 2013

MY OWN CONUS

... after my last journal postings i thought i might've kept one of the pictures i took of some the conus textile shells i found along the reef, so i searched through the plastic cases i keep my slides in ... box number four was the charm ...


... here's a shot from a website showing what the little snails look like in their natural habitat ...


... oddly enough, despite the deadly nature of the venom they could inject i never felt any real fear picking up one of these creatures ... rather, when diving my angst was a result of the images my overactive imagination created of a giant clam grabbing ahold of my foot while i was free diving and clamping shut to hold me down until i became fish food ...



RESPITE

... the wire bridge, in north new portland ... older than the brooklyn bridge, the original main cables and covered supporting structures are over 150 years old ...

... last sunday, a scorcher of a summer day, this couple, and a family out of sight to the left of the photograph, were the "crowd" with whom i shared the cool, clear waters of the carrabassett river ...

... my little spot on the riverbank is just above the rock in the center of the picture ...

... i wish i could bring each and every one of you here for a picnic and a swim ...

PHOTOSNOBBERY

... met a photographer who said to me, "i don't do any photoshopping ... i do real photography" ... [he also made sure i learned how many megapixels big his camera's sensor was, which i'm thinking he somehow related to the size of something not a lens] ...

... here's an original, snapped on west bay's iron shore, near the fishing place just south of the turtle farm ...


... here's the same image, "photoshopped" to appear as it did to my eyes ...


... another example, taken near the chinaman's in newport, rhode island ...


... from the digital image file, my "negative," this is how my mind embraced the scene ...


... if you asked ansel adams, "i'm thinking of becoming better at printing my images ... what should i bring with me into the darkroom," his response would most likely be, "knowledge of the zone system, your eyes, your esthetic sensibility, a sandwich, and, always, the following:"


... for those of you who are completely involved in photography as a "digital" medium, in the ancient "chemical era" these were the tools used to correct/adjust/manipulate images ...

... when i first began to take pictures i would encounter "real" photographers who would scoff at my little olympus rangefinder, commenting, "well, someday you'll get a real camera, like mine, a leica," or, "when you're really serious you'll start shooting 2-1/4 negatives," or, my absolute favorite, "why, your ektachrome film is just fine, for amateurs, real photographers only shoot kodachrome" ... some things seem to never change, do they ...

"you don't take a photograph, you make it"
ANSEL ADAMS


IN A JAPANESE WRECK

... wreck diving, when and where in question ... notice the "high-tech" equipment ... tank, two-stage regulator and mouthpiece, lead weights, rubber fins and shin mounted diving knife ... that's it ... our "dive computer" consisted of a waterproof bag containing the repetitive dive tables (kept in the boat), a grease pencil, and a plastic tablet ... after each descent/ascent we had to "do the math" to calculate the next dive's maximum bottom time and decompression stops ...

... sometimes we would "bounce dive" to what i will now admit to having been rather extreme depths, other days we spent hours and hours at the one-atmosphere level, thirty-two feet ... my favorite times, of course, were when i would free-dive to over one-hundred feet searching for rare and/or beautiful shells to sell to the australian tourists, of which the the extremely venomous  conus textile was my favorite ...

PHOTO COURTESY OF ©RICHARD LING

... ma knew about this, but i'm fairly certain she never learned the extent of our explorations ... i told pa, he said, "just be careful, okay" ...

... [sigh] ...

... up in heaven, together again, another thing for which he's probably going to have to suffer an eternity or so being scolded ...