Suburban Images, volume 1

*under review

During a couple of years' hiatus in art, I repressed and neglected many creative urges, but the gestated desire to create had begun to wail and nag me to have been nursed. The seed blossomed into nostalgia and a reminder of how creating art [photography] was indispensably cathartic and at times euphoric.
I decided to take up film photography with the intention of later producing darkroom prints. Shooting film rekindled my passion for creating images, but the sporadic loss of entire rolls to incorrect loading or just ill-care was disheartening and ultimately succumbing to the law of diminishing returns, it became abundantly clear that film photography was a luxury that I could not afford; so I returned to digital photography.

I appreciate the level of control and refinement possible with digital processing, which permits me to attempt to extract the essence of what drew me to create an image and so possibly produce more meaningful products, however I tend to shoot jpegs or tifs to eliminate the process entirely and revel in the immediacy of  the technology.

I make a habit of having my camera with me, and instances arise in which the impetus to capture becomes overwhelming — hence the creation of images by car. In the events that I am not with it, experiencing phenomena often becomes unburdened by the compulsion to practise.
I've come across the technique of creating images by car in the forms of Lee Friedlander's America By Car, and Julie Hrudova's curated mini-series, World by car. in the case of Friedlander, it led me to think that when practising in such thematic niches like this, or perhaps any established photographic cliche, one plants oneself into a contrived mythology of the medium.

I once believed that the creation of a photograph is at the centre of a venn diagram representing a triad of elements which consists of: one's artistic vision; the scene, as perceived in reality; and the image capture mechanism and technique. 
My neglect to reconcile the difference between human vision and the limitations of a camera sensor's dynamic range lent me to believe that real photographers would implore divine mysticism to produce evenly exposed and well-described scenes, with the bare minimum and to wit, definitely without the clutter of flash.
I'd become enamoured with flash photography when i'd discovered the work of Barry Talis and members of Full Frontal Flash, and so began to explore the the capabilities of my bulky dslr's pop-up flash.

Aside from hadidas and pigeons, which are virtually ubiquitous, I'd become more aware of other common birds; sparrows, tumultuous mousebirds, the house martin with its close dives and swoops that made me wonder whether my shins would be bested by such a small and insolent bird. On one of the later of a few instances in which a crow would circle above me, it dove relatively low, and although my viewpoint was not ideal, the light and close distance of the bird was compelling.