shoot with the lights out... sort of

Dear People-


I took some pictures at night sans flash... hope you like. Word.

-Zachariah

Half Way Gone

So... I had a weird idea which I'm a little hesitant to share the formula of, and so I won't, but I will share the result. I thought it came out very cool, maybe others would disagree. I am excited to try some new things with my photography. I'm going to be investing in some new lenses and maybe some new filters soon. I'll keep you posted on any new developments. Here is my new idea...

EVAN LEWIS!!!

Well, today is a huge day for me and my immediate family. My sister Jessie is having her baby. Evan Lewis Alexander Bishop is his name. He's coming a couple months early and will most likely spend some time in the NICU, but we will be praying that he grows strong quickly and gets to go home soon. This is the first baby in our family. Its kind of ironic considering all of our extended family members thought for sure we Montoyas would be the first ones to be having children... since we were a bit less refined as kids. Jessie is 30 though, so it's about time she had a baby anyway. The window was closing on her opportunity to have a baby and not be high risk. So... there is going to be a new member of the family today!!! Welcome to the lunacy of the Montoya family little guy. Here is one of her early sonograms, its the only one I got.

Things Change

Last night I thought to myself, I've been here for over a year now... what has changed? Everything! My dog turned into a big beautiful obedient companion who keeps me company when no one else is around. I have become a pretty decent student. I have learned who I am in the inner most chambers of my heart. And I reunited with the ever beautiful Kathryn and we have begun to work out the details of spending the rest of our lives together. Thank you Lord for that wonderful blessing! I need to look back more often, I think it's important in seeing just how much ground has been covered, emotionally, spiritually, etc... So... here are some pics of Orion. First as a tiny 9 week old pup and now as a 15 month old dog.

Feeling Cynical

I love how no one really reads other peoples blogs, they just want everyone to read theirs... it's funny.

I like that no one really reads this blog... i can say things like: I saw a donkey peeing fire out of his butt hole... and nobody would ever know. That makes me laugh. Here is a picture of a horse.

Mary Ellen Mark

Today was a momentous day for me. I got to listen to the amazing photographer Mary Ellen Mark speak... twice. It was great to hear a professional photographer say that they hadn't yet gone digital. It gives me hope as a film lover. I know that many would argue, but I really don't feel that digital photography is on the same level as film photography. I feel that it lacks quality. I also, feel that digital photography and digital editing programs make 'photographers' really really lazy. Photography seems to have become much more about the 'Photoshop' post production that the actual photography itself. There is a severe lack of understanding of what photography actually is. The word photography comes from two Greek words: Photo-which means light and Graphy which means draw or write, so "write with light" or "draw with light". Now, maybe I'm a bit of an art snob, but I actually know how to draw and I took the time to learn how to draw with light as well. I do very minimal post production to my photography, if any. I think if you rely mostly on digital editing in order for your photos to have any appeal, maybe you're not actually doing photography or maybe you should stop doing photography. Then again, there seems to be quite a few people out there that are making a living doing digital photography, while I struggle to get by. Truth be told, I'd rather struggle and be true to my craft and my art and my heart, than forsake my talent and skill just to fit into the groove of a trend. I think that soon enough real photography will come back into play and all the hacks out there 'Photoshopping' their way into a living are gonna have to move over and let the big boys take the wheel. Just my opinion, and if not, well... since I actually know how to take a photograph, it will be much easier for me to take those jobs too because the post production for my work will take 1/10th the time, as editors won't need to really try to get what they need out of my shots. So all that said, here are some more shots to look at and hopefully enjoy.

Some More Random Pics

Here are just a few more random pictures, I've taken... so disorganized... on another note, heard the song "Mighty To Save" by Laura Story, this version was performed by Hillsong United... wept. You read it... I wept. I miss Jesus and I miss church, I'm out of touch, out of fellowship. I wept.

Random Photos That Didn't Make the Cut For Class So I Decided That I Would Share Them Here Instead And Create The World's Longest Blog Title In The Process Because I Thought It Would Be Funny But Maybe It's Not Funny Who Knows, I Guess Funny Is Subjective To Personal Preference

I sometimes think people might have questions about photographs... If you do, by all means, ask.

Panoramics

I had an assignment that was to shoot a series of photographs and turn them into panoramic photographs, I hated the thought of it, but am actually pretty pleased about the outcome. These panos all contain at least 16 photographs. Tell me what you think.

Some Photos

So... I think I'm finally starting to understand myself a bit better when I have my camera in my hands. Here are a few photos from assignments I've shot so far this semester. I'm not necessarily asking for critiques here, so please...

What This Is

Heya-
Someone may read this and get the wrong idea of who I am, where I stand and what exactly I believe. So, if that be the case, this blog was simply things I wrote for a creative writing class early on this semester, the topics were assigned to me. I will be turning this into more of a photo/personal blog; which may or may not be more interesting, it will be more visually stunning I assure you. I know that the pictures here so far are fairly morose, but they were just for some form of visual guidance and I don't like to commandeer others' photos, as it were. Well, that being said...


Be Blessed All-
Zachariah

Mad

The can: crisp, clean, clearly made of metal, maybe aluminum? It shines in the corner, even in the shadow of the desk. Inside this perfect little cylinder is a light blue baby powder scented trash bag, it has a single small knot tied in it to keep it from sliding into the can, the knot is lined up with the crease in the lip of the can, where metal slightly overlaps metal. Take a closer look examine the trash. The first thing one would notice is the J Crew catalog placed perfectly upright against the side of the bag, placed so precisely that it curves exactly with the shape of the can. The edges of the catalog are straight lacking folds or tears unlike most paper documents and it has no wrinkles in fact the only thing noticeable at all is a smudgy thumbprint on the top left side near the stapled fold. Next to the catalog taking the same position with the curve is a tourism pamphlet for a chain of Caribbean islands. On the front is a beautiful picture of a white sandy beach being gently caressed by the loving crystal blue of the sea. Palm trees and tropical shrubbery populate the background and the sun blesses it all from on high. This pamphlet is fairly worn, the edges are slightly dented, the corners folded and one is even a little torn. Some of the ink has lost its vibrancy thanks to the excessive handling. There are several utility bills inside as well, these are torn in quarters and seemingly placed in the bottom of the wastebasket facing up. The bottom was for electrical services, on top of that was water, on top of that gas. There was no indication of the utilities being paid or not, just a methodical dismemberment of the paperwork. On top of the bills a wrapper from a nutrition bar, it is folded into a perfect square about two inches by two inches. The writing and design are mostly indistinguishable except for the “Nutr” on the exposed portion. Lying on top of all of these items, a slightly crumbled receipt. Thrown haphazardly into the bucket, no folds, and no creases. The receipt is from a general store, on it a list of items purchased: duct tape 3.49, 10’ nylon rope 6.99, 20’ blue tarp 21.99 and 16” axe 24.99.

The Hole

How the hell did I end up in this dungeon? Am I ever gonna get out of here? I wonder if my family even knows where I am. I don’t know how long my sanity will last in this place. I don’t even speak the language; I never know what I’m being told, by either guards or other prisoners. The walls in my cell are all dingy looking, an off white from years of prisoners lighting their very few belongings on fire to fight off the freeze. There are so many etchings on the walls, dates and names, signs of boredom and despair. I can’t read most of them, only some names and a couple of the dates, everything else is in Russian or Ukrainian or something foreign to me. The constant frost outside this time of year makes my area moist as it is usually a few degrees warmer in here, because of the body heat from the prisoners constantly moving trying to keep from freezing. It causes the whole place to smell very pungent like sweat and mold, I am getting used to it after eight months. The only time it smells relatively fresh is just after a rain, but it doesn’t really help for long as the humidity levels go up causing us all to sweat more. And with only one set of clothes it gets bad pretty quickly.
The guards are brutal, especially to me since I barely understand a word they say and no one will help me learn, as they seem to get a rise out of watching me get my ass kicked. Every time I hear the clanking of keys I push myself into the farthest corner of my cell and face the wall as to avoid any unnecessary contact with them. They all seem to have very serious expressions, I have never seen a guard smile and they look especially sinister since they went from wearing military style uniforms to all black combat gear. When the unfortunate event of a fight breaks out, it is an easy excuse for the guards to physically punish all of us. We are lined up and methodically beaten on the bottoms of our feet. This type of torture is hellacious, as it not only induces fear but also slows your work down which will also get you beaten. I need to get out of here.
I hate when the lights go out for the evening. The darkness is where fear begins to play tricks on my fatigued mind. I hear footsteps down the corridor, but am afraid to look, as it may be the guards testing us to see who is curios enough to get a beating or is it? I never hear the clinking of keys, but I hear distant screams of torture at times. I feel bugs and rodents crawling on me searching for food or blood or both and all I can do is brush them away without creating too much noise giving the guards reason to come. Sometimes the rats begin to gnaw on my flesh where my blisters have turn into festering wounds. God! Get me out of here! The silence is driving me crazy. I’m crazy. I’m going crazy. I think I’m crazy.

The Incident

The air was cool, the majority of the students had on light coats or sweaters to fight off the chill. It was moving on to mid day and the restlessness of youth was setting in. In the years of growth when one starts to become the man or woman they will soon be, the tensions were high. Boys challenging boys verbally and physically in order to establish rank, all others cheering or booing them on. My mind was made up. The fight was on and no one had the ability to stop the coming events. I slowly made my way into the class where History is normally taught on plain wood tables, but today history would be made. The faint aroma of soap and bleach tickled my nose with each breath growing deeper and deeper. The drum inside my chest beat a steady rhythm so loudly my own thoughts began to fade into the background. There he was, Stanley. Within a second I had gone from innocent youth to savage warrior wielding two powerful hammers. In slow contrived motions my arms cocked back and forth almost robotically, each blow devastating my foe. Up and around we spun, then down to the cold tile floor, back up and around twirling, dancing, beautiful yet brutal. The air now steaming, full of fluid as hot as our bodies, the stench of death and destruction taking control. The taste of iron was beginning to take residence on my lips and tongue. One deep gasp for oxygen and as quickly as it began, it was over. A calm enveloped me as I slumped down my back against the cool sheetrock wall. Hands dripping life and the steady drum beat yielding to the screams of children in chaos. The fight was over.

What Its All About

So, I’m over-looking this canyon and I start to understand what it’s all about. What life is all about; what it means for the sun to rise every morning and to set every evening. Why the tide rolls in and washes back out, why salmon swim upstream to lay eggs and die. There were some vultures sitting on cliff edges, they had risen with the sun. They stepped out on ledges and spread their wings like a man opens his arms to God, as if to say to the warmth, ‘here I am take me up in your powerful arms’. You know a vulture can’t fly until the temperature reaches a certain degree. So, they sit and wait with wings stretched out teaching us who are watching how to embrace the day. Don’t rush or you could take a serious fall, but don’t take too long or you may miss the meals. Just go with the flow, in this case the thermal drafts, which are created by an actual flow. When the time is right, the vultures look at each other and then at me as if to say ‘this is what you’ve been waiting for, jump now’. They instinctively leap off the ledge and trust that the day will carry them into the sky. They slowly descend and make a few clumsy flaps, then it begins, and it is magical. The sky herself seems to grab the vultures and gently nudges them higher and higher in concentric circles, spiraling over a mile up, where they have the best point of view. They see it all, the life, the death, the water, the wood, the desert, the marsh, all of it. It takes time and faith, it takes leaping, it takes patience, but it is worth it. The vultures are voracious, screeching, screaming as they slowly move up and down the invisible corkscrew elevators devouring every scrap of meat they can catch or find. The sun begins to tire and the temperature begins to drop. The vultures are forced to ground themselves for the evening, and as soon as they do I see movement below. The small mammals that cowered all day now become brave foragers. They gaze up the canyon walls daring the vultures to come get them. The vultures nestle themselves in their nests and gently chuckle and rustle their feathers one last time as the hoots of owls begin to echo in the night.