The colors vary according to the seasons, but even in the winter,
they are rich and compelling. The Speedway takes care
of the Coke Field, mowing it regularly and cleaning up trash.
But stuff gets thrown in the creek, gathering just behind
me against a pylon sticking out of the water.
All this color, of the sort that inspired the weavers of
long-ago tapestries. All this beauty from
a fucking drainage ditch.
I did hit the "Auto Contrast" button in Photoshop, but that was it.
The color was all there, if you took the time to wait for it.
My response to question 83.
3 comments:
Oooh, Bonnie Raitt for breakfast. Thank you, Speedway; a real treat. Though I have to confess that for a man "love me like a man" is a phrase redolent with unfortunate reference to … er … bottom sex. I'm happy to leave that stuff to other people.
Loving the colours.
I remember my old art teacher taking us to Waveney Meadow (a scene not dissimilar to Coke Field) and telling us to count how many greens and reds we could see. Up until then, green was green and red was red and shadows were simply done with a black crayon. A life-changing moment.
I wanted to post this video, but the sound was so bad, I used the other. I especially liked Bonnie's guitar bits.
http://youtu.be/uee3sGxdMtw
When I was in high school, I overheard my art teacher talking about me to another teacher, "I wish I could see as many colors as she does." Until that time, I'd actually thought everybody saw color the way I did/do. To this day, I just don't quite understand how a person just cannot see all the colors. It's eternally frustrating - like having to fold the damn towel and putting it back 2.566 cm from the left side of the rod. Or whatever.
Hee hee. There is no excuse for leaving a towel askew.
I like to show the "kids" at the office how many colours there are in a scene by using the Photoshop colour picker. They're always goggle-eyed with amazement. You are incredibly lucky to have been born with your eyes open to the world.
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