Images from last Friday's shoot at Owachomo Bridge at Natural Bridges National Monument in Utah. All images copyright 2013 Stu Jenks and Fezziwig Press.To purchase images rights or prints, just contact Fezziwig Press at email@example.com P.S. I'm fine with you drag-and-dropping these low rez images onto your desktop. Just don't print them or sell them. Thanks, Stu.
Image: "Queen Esther Baptist Church, Lancaster, Virginia" (c) 2011 Stu Jenks (Just down River Road from Victoria's house. Love that luscious red carpet. And for you nocturnals out there, it was handheld. Rare for me.)
In this time of making photos on iPhones and Macbook Pros and only looking on screens, I forget I'm a old-school guy. I make a 8 1/2 x 11 work print on archival paper of EVERY image I make. EVERY one. It's the only way, for me, to accurately check for color shift, density, composition, etc. I really like my iPad screen but it's no way to make a good print.
And I have hundreds, if not thousands, of work prints artist proofs at my studio.
If you see an image of mine on The StuBlog or on my old website or on the Fezziwig Press Store or in any of my books, there's a beautiful small print in a box somewhere, perhaps with your name on it. And since I'm organized, I can find it.
Many of you can't afford my larger prints. I understand. I don't have an extra 50 or 100 lying around either. But I do have an extra $20 for stuff I really like.
So if you see an image of mine on any of my sites or in any of my books and you want it, it's yours for $25, shipping, handling and tax included. (I believe in paying taxes, sales and otherwise.)
Just email me at my facebook page or through the StuBlog or at firstname.lastname@example.org, and tell me what print you would like or just pull the jpeg and send that to me.
I was just watching the Tarhells lose today in basketball, working on images at my computer when I thought, 'I bet people don't realize I have boxes of work prints here.'
You all do now.
Love and light,
p.s. Ignore the catagories belows. The computer went wacky. Another reason why I prefer a print in the hand as opposed to an image in The Cloud.
300 plus pages into the first draft of the novel. My main characters have just gotten off the train in Yuma. They'll be spending the night in Yuma, getting back on the Sunset Limited in the morning. God willing and the writer doesn't change his outline, they should be home in Tucson, tomorrow.
I'm guessing there's only about 70 to 100 pages untl I get to write the big climax of the novel. (I have a nice, hopefully-very-satisfying ending planned.) Then re-write and editors but that's then, not now. Now, I just want to share some more Graphic Pen images (and some straight photographic ones) that will be chapter heading images for the book. And just if you are wondering, Graphic Pen images are easier and cheaper to print lithographically and a little easier to design and upload for the IPad, Kindle and Nook. Anyway, have a happy Twenty Twelve, y'all, and don't forget to enjoy the mystery of it all.
"Laura Milkins at Rossevelt Dam Bridge, Arizona" (c) 2011 Stu Jenks
I show up around the 10-minute mark in this section of the Laura Milkins' Walking Home project video. (You can see all the the vids Laura's shot from her head-cam at the above site too.) Laura and I talked about physical and metaphysical connectedness, about the beauty and history of Roosevelt Dam & Bridge, about the sadness of those who suicide, and about the wonderful/horrible creatures we called human beings. But mostly we were just walked and chatted and enjoyed the cool, sunny day. And the side trip to the cliff dwellings at Tonto National Monument was fun too. And to Laura's Mom. She's fine. She's happy. She has her wits about her. And she's enjoying the walk to come see you in Michigan.
So Godspeed, Laura Milkins. And happy that I was yesterday's support vehicle for you.
And I hope the cotton socks work better than the wool ones.
"Red: Golden Gate Bridge, San Francisco, California" (c) 2011 Stu Jenks
I've walked the Golden Gate twice now. Yes, the view of The City stuns, and the wind stings my face in a very nice way, but what's hit me each time, like a phantom hopelessness, is the thought of all the people who have jumped from this bridge to their deaths. It would be so easy, so romantic, so final, eh?
I'm not suicidial now but I was a gazillion years ago. I know the wish to end the pain that you think will never end. But now, as a reasonably hopeful guy, I'm saddened by the days and nights not lived by those who jumped, when perhaps after some time or some therapy or something, their depression lifts, true love arrives and they enjoy the mysteries of life again. But no. They are dead.
As Levi Neill once said: "There is no detox from Death."
Coit Tower stands majestic over there. Bicyclists speed by. And I look at the red cables, imagining those who have grabbed them, hoisted themselves up on the rail, balanced themselves briefly, and then plunged into the Bay below.