Sam

Dad's Smashed iPhone: Frame It or Bury It?

So there I was with my esteemed friend and colleague, Colleen Wheeler. We were on foot, en route to a wine bar along one of Ventura, California's lovely beaches, on the other side of the scenic interstate 101 from where I had parked my car. After passing a "No Pedestrians Allowed" sign---at which I thought, don't call me a pedestrian you racist!---we were unexpectedly confronted by a busy and treacherous highway exit ramp. (Hello, State of California, walking people and exit ramps don't go together!) There is no stop light, which means the rapidly exiting automobiles are permitted to slam into the dainty endoskeletons of unsuspecting bipeds at full speed. So we did the only thing sensible: We scurried across the exit ramp like daring road-kill squirrels.

As we enjoyed our wine (yes we survived), Colleen thought it would be fun to show me every photo she had ever taken on her iPhone. Which added up to about 700. And much as you love someone, reviewing that person's photo album makes you a bit catatonic. And so as my eyes fluttered, I had this ill-formed thought that I had photos on my iPhone, too, and I should, there was that one, right, which? So I felt my right-side pocket, and then the other one, and my jacket, and, hold the phone, no iPhone!

I explained my lack of phone to Colleen. She called my number and it went right to v-mail. We retraced our steps. I saw something that looked like a flat pack of cigarettes in the exit ramp. I watched it get run over once, then twice. I squirrel-scurried in, scooped it up, and sure enough, it was my iPhone.

The phone was face down, its back marred by multiple tire tracks. I turned it over and this was what I saw. (Click the graphic for a high-res image that you can use, free of charge, for any of your cracked glass compositions.)

My smashed run-over dead-gone-dead iPhone

The phone was, and is forever more, dead. Read more » 

Warmest Wishes for the Holiday Season

First, thanks those of you who contributed to the Photoshop Top 40: The Contest. I had originally planned to announce winners today (Dec 24), but we had so many entries and so many of them are great that I'll need a bit more time. Colleen and I have culled the list to the Best 40 or so. and now comes the hard part. I'll shoot for getting the winners announced this weekend.

Second, and probably more important, permit me to wish you the happiest of all possible Holiday Seasons and a sensational 2010. Here's a picture of me and my two thoroughly awesome boys (care of Target, of all places!). If there are two more beautiful or exceptional children on the planet, I would like to meet them and shake their fortunate little hands.

Best of luck and a bright tomorrow. Read more » 

Low-Angle: It's for the Children

I realize I owe you lovers of the graphic arts a Part 2 to my Illustrator Transparency, Photoshop Resolve article. And I'll get to it, don't you fret. But this week I got a wild hair up my nose. I say "nose" knowing full well that Colleen will give me crap for censoring myself. (Compare this to dekePod, where I vigilantly defend my every naughty utterance). But you see, this week, I have to self-censor because, this week, I'm givin' it up for the children. The wee little vulnerable, innocent, pure-as-driven-snow children. Who in the case of my boys already know most the choice bits of wayward vocabulary (as well as some of the advanced combos), but also know better than to employ them in public.

As those of you who are familiar with my stuff know, I'm not a photographer. So you won't find me proselytizing on such topics as aperture and focal length. But I am a graphic artist and I do have an eye for framing and composition, which is where this article comes in.

Lately, I've been experimenting with the low-angle "hero" shot. By way of contrast, consider the image below. It shows my seven-year-old, Max, building sand trees using a sculptural variation of the Jack-the-dripper technique. For those interested in such things, the technique involves extremely fine, wet sand which is then squeezed though the palm and occasionally whipped at a target, as we see Max doing here. (He's actually amazingly deft at it. I know, I'm the dad so I would say that. But he's as good as me, and I rock at sand trees.) 

The image nicely conveys a moment of dynamic energy. But the story is told from my perspective, the perspective of an adult. Read more »