Today I will discuss something I look for in my photography - TEXTURE.  
I Love textures.    I used to really go overboard on textures and that is the reason I've re-edited some of my old photos.    When the photo is a photo of a texture or when there is plenty of texture in the photograph already it is not necessary to add any texture.    Texture should be treated like a fine wine.    A glass or two is perfect but if you get drunk you become an absolute mess.    Using texture is much the same (in my opinion).     Now I will add a caveat there are times for working on an abstract original a severe or obvious texture may add to the overall composition but these are rare instances.    Generally speaking texture is is like frosting on the cake.   You want some but you also want the cake also.   Okay maybe that's not the best analogy because I'm sure there are readers out there who would argue they could live on frosting alone (you know who you are).   LOL  🙂

I also love poetry.  I love poetry for it's ability to condense feelings, emotions, images, impressions into a few words - no need to write a novel.   At least I don't feel the need to write a novel.   :-).  Textures for me provide that same ability and can change a "feeling" or "impression" of an image just by adding some textures - the same that poetry does for language or storytelling.  
 
My newest texture was created using this photo below.  It is simply a photograph of paint/tar splatter on concrete wall under a roadway where homeless camp out from time to time.   When I photographed this I took the image with an intention of using it as a texture.   I didn't know how at the time but today it all came together.  
In Photoshop is opened the raw file added contrast etc because I wanted the "squiggles" to stand out more.   Then I began to add layers of the photo,  rotating and repositioning them as as what felt right.   Each layer I would either use the "exclusion" or "difference" function.  When I was finished I had a wonderful abstract mess that I could use as a texture.    The original was in color but I also converted it to black & white to use on monochrome photos.  
One of the things I like about textures is that they can bring out the feelings or moods of an image that lie just under the surface.    And I think this can take a bland image from the level of mere representation to "art".     See what you think.   

Below are two photos. The one from an abandoned factory; I haven't posted before because it seemed to be missing something, but when I added the color version of this new texture it seemed to come alive for me.   You can see hints of the texture but again it does not overpower the original image.    It enhances the crusty dirty feeling of what the location was really like.   I almost feel like I can rub my finger across the image and dust and dirt will come off.    

On the Winter scene below - I used the black and white version of the texture.   And to me it gives the image almost a vintage feel.    It adds to the snowiness of the overall scene making it feel even sharper and therefore colder even icy.    
Well those are my thoughts and look into the evolution of some of my images.   What do you think?   If anyone would like a jpeg or tif file of these textures color and/or black and white to use on your own work - use the contact form on this blog and I will email you a copy of the file.   This offer is for a limited time only.   Thanks everyone.  

the poetry of textures

4 haiku for the end of Autumn.


(12/01/21)
Leaves begin their fall.
Colors changing while you watch
autumn's rich pageant.

(11/27/19)
Cold, dark, windy night;
trees shudder; dead leaves unchained 
make fierce their escape

(12/01/21)
Distant in the dark.
Sweet sounds the soft piano.
Music in the night.

(12/01/21)
Chill'd, damp autumn night.
Sleepless bare trees sway slowly.
Unwrapp'd, expos'd heart.

sunday verses #11

(untitled) 1/29/19 1AM

… with bigoted clam-shelled-shut heart
pinched accusation and fervent digit all gesticulation
their unctuous moral fortitude no reverence for creation
razes the standard none can achieve
happy to fail, happy to fall 
into the boiling cauldron of righteousness
reason lost

Who will avail the good, decent, compassionate 
and forgiving soil?
… planting seeds to each grow its own kind
fruit bearing and fruitless
watered by streams of untethered acceptance.

Virtues are best left in deep shadows
where they are not exposed to the light of…
…haughty self-aggrandizement,
bleached by self-promotion or discolored by false humility….
… left in the heavy darkness when eyes close 
and sound fades to sleep…
… perchance to dream.

sunday verses #10

HOLES IN MY CITY   (2014)

There are holes in my city
where buildings used to stand.

Empty spaces are all that remain
where factories made my world.

A dream that never was
cannot be remembered or built upon.

There is no foundation 
there is only dust and wind.

Remembrance is only a delusion
sickness of mind and soul
for a community that is trapped
in its struggle to free itself from nothing.

There are holes in my city
where buildings used to stand.

Places where people lived
where the voices of children could be heard.

Now there is silence
even the ghosts don't linger here.

Some say silence is golden
but the same silence can drive a person mad.

There are holes...

sunday verses #9

PLAYERS SONG (date unknown)

what you lookin’ at?
what you laughin’ at?
what you makin’ fun of?

the end has come 
lights gone down
crowds are gone
strides across 
this sawdust clown

baggy pants
dirty shirt
worn out shoes
treading through
another broken town

hotel room
lonely bulb
peeling paint
dingy and dank
inhabited mold drown

what you lookin’ at?
what you laughin’ at?
what you makin’ fun of?

the naked man 
in the bathtub
smokes a cigar
wearing the painted 
face of a clown

milky surface
soapy water
shimmers like diamonds
one deep breath
he’s sliding down

what you lookin’ at?
what you laughin’ at?
what you makin’ fun of?

warm wet meditation
wraps up the man
mind quiet, at peace 
distant thunder 
smoking cigar lifeline 

rising up
paint-stained flesh
reveals the man
washed renewed naked
suffering reality frown

what you lookin’ at?
what you laughin’ at?
what you makin’ fun of?

sunday verses #8