Challenge Entry – Edge

Here I sit.
It is Friday night and SFS (Single Frame Stories) should be posted in less than 12 hours.
Here I sit.
It is Friday night and I still have not officially made my submission this week.

The word of the week is “edge.”

I do not think I am the only one to form a mental image of a razor-blade, but, then again, maybe it is just me. I wanted to take a picture with a black backdrop. I wanted a shiny, new box-cutter type blade. My mind’s eye could clearly see the razor’s edge, the light reflecting off the surface, the focus capturing the sharpness. I wanted to use a lens that allowed the focus of that edge to be so clear, so sharp that there would be no doubt of its ability to slice smoothly.

But, I also knew that I would not be able to capture the image in a way that would satisfy me.

Therefore, I moved on. Quickly. So quickly, in fact, that I had a new image before the day’s end. It did include razors. It also included bottles. I was going to use it with no caption and no explanation. You either got it or you didn’t. What you read into it would be what I intended or not; it was going to be put out there for you to interpret and apply your own meaning.

I shared the image with one person and she did not get it. What she “saw” was not even close to what I meant. Someone else got it right away.

I knew the image was risky because, for some, it could be very difficult to view. It is raw and dark and could have several different meanings – or none at all.

Later in the week I became unsatisfied with the picture. I say that, yet I wonder if I was truly not satisfied with the image or if I was just not comfortable with sharing the image. Either way, I decided to take the concept I had and work on it little more. Thus began my most reserved journey over the edge.

I called a relative and asked if they had certain bottles of alcohol that I could use for a photograph. They not only told me no, but they also informed me that it is a good thing I do not drink. “You’d be an expensive alcoholic.”

No, my relatives really don’t know me.

But I digress. This member of my family told me she, the family, and their friends are all cheap drinkers and mostly have beer. She did offer one brand of Vodka but it was not, shall we say, what I wanted.

A day or two later a friend and I were chatting. I asked her if she would be willing to lend me some of her bottles of alcohol. After a little clarification and informing her that it does not matter if they are empty or not (a little water, a little color, a little tea, I can make it look how I need), she was willing to let me use her stuff (no water or tea needed). 

Interesting side note: She is not an alcoholic and says she has not ever been drunk. She just likes to experiment with the flavors and have a little (seriously, little) drink every now-and-then. Yet, she has a bigger collection of booze than the serious drinkers I know. I guess in way that makes sense – in their houses, that liquor wouldn’t last! But, I digress, again…

This friend ended up letting me use her light box, lights, tripod, foil, and bottles. I supplied the camera, blades, and knife. The images, while they are mine - step up and photographed by me - they didn’t feel completely reflective of what I was trying to convey or capture.

After getting all the pictures home, cycling through them, choosing a few, playing with them in my editing software, I finally chose a considerably cropped picture. I manipulated it and added text.

Again, a couple of days later I became dissatisfied. There is another type of edge. Something that is not a literal sharp edge, something other than the vagueness, something different from an inability to cope soberly or escaping, something that is not over the edge, something more or less defined. The edge of broken heart, however that break occurs. Whether it is the kind that comes as relationships fail, the result of shattered aspirations, or any other moment that results in a broken heart, it is... difficult.

As for my submission for this week's prompt, in the end, I decided the “blood” in the images may be too much for some people to cope with – the meaning for them may be too difficult to unexpectedly face. I realize that many others will not “get it,” but this is not about whether they get it or not. It is my response to or expression of a word. The word is edge. Still, since I do not wish to push anyone over the edge, I did not choose not to display “blood” pictures. I think the two images I did choose to submit still express “edge” adequately. Don’t you?

Note: Stating that this is my "most reserved journey over the edge" means I did not partake in the consumption of any alcohol despite the portraits and accompanying text. Thank you.

 ~B

Challenge Entry - Climb

Single Frame Stories Prompt: Climb

The word was a simple, monosyllabic one. However, the image that sprung to mind would not be simple to create. It was a view from the bottom of a steep cliff.

When I was a teenager some friends and I went swimming. Swimming was the simple part; the hard part was getting there. See, the spot was hidden down a back road. It required knowing which dirt road to go down, which area of trees to park in, and which way to walk through the woods. Then, there was getting to the water. When the walk through the woods ended, you were at a cliff that over looked a lake - a lake that had huge rocks slightly jutting out and just beneath the surface. Still, my friends and I didn’t travel all that way in just for the view.

Each of us stripped down to our swimsuits, took a deep breath, walked a few steps back, and individually made a small run followed by a big jump. Falling, falling, and falling past the jagged edges hoping to land in the water that was said to be over 100 feet deep with scarcely a thought of what would happen if we hit a rock instead.

We’d play in the water, swim around, and watch someone else jump. Eventually we’d have to climb up the bluff to either jump off again or to leave. The climb was treacherous and steep. I remember watching one guy scale up the wall, paying special attention to his hand and foot placement. I climbed up, trying to follow where he had gone, while another guy followed behind me.

Up the rock wall, finger and toes my only safety net, I ascended the wall in a little blue swimsuit. There was a guy below me “in case I fell” (as if he could do anything if that were to happen) and to keep me safe. Of course, being teenagers and in our swimsuit (and considering the comments later), there was more than my “safety” that he had in mind being below me.

Still, those were the days of youthful fearlessness. Of a time when energy and strength were not a consideration when it came to planning a day’s events; the only thing to consider then was whether or not it would be fun.

I wanted a picture from the base of a semi-sheer cliff or bluff. I wanted that particular climb, that moment, that feeling pictured, expressed, conveyed. The strength and the fun and the fear…

There were a few places I could go to get something similar. However, I had no time nor desire to go on a lake or hiking this week. So that image will remain in my mind.

A few days later I thought of the local landscape. I considered a photo of the horizon, or perhaps just a distant mountain or hill. I could add text that reflected being over the hill and the climb. I had ideas of the climb up or the struggle to climb back to the other side once you are “over the hill.”

That, however, did not happen either.

For a moment I toyed with the idea of ladder with a corporate theme. That, too, did not pan out.

Finally, I entertained the thought of skipping this week’s Single Frame Story.

Then, late Friday afternoon/early evening, I found myself with a little bit of time. I recalled Girl wanting to take photos at a specific location earlier in the week. So, I told her to get ready to go and grab her camera. I’d take her to the spot she wanted to go and then, if there was still enough light, I’d try a few places for mine.

We were at her chosen location when it happened. I saw the potential in the area she wanted to take pictures. It was not near the depth I had envisioned, but maybe…

As I stood at the edge, one step away from a short but steep drop, I tried to figure out the easiest way for me to get to the bottom. I also had to decide if I was willing to actually lie in the stream to get the right perspective. The, I realized the rocky bottom view was all I needed. My entire concept for the word “climb” changed in an instant. Climb was suddenly what one had to do once they hit rock bottom.

Once you have lost it all, and then some, you have a choice. You can sit there, cold, hurt, feeling lost, alone, and maybe even sorry for yourself. You can blame the world and others for your fall. Or, you can get off your duff and struggle to climb out of the hole you’ve found yourself in. It is not an easy climb. It often takes more strength than you know you have, energy you feel you could use elsewhere, time you don't want to spend, and have moments where the path seems impossible and impassable. You may even stumble and slip back down. It just may be the hardest thing you ever do. So much so, you could even have to ask for help along the way. However, once you make it, no matter how difficult the struggle, you know the battles that still lay ahead are but hills compared to the cliff you just scaled.

Therefore, I offer this small visual representation of the struggle that some of us know… No matter what or where your rock bottom is, may you one day understand the worth of the climb.

(Note: Girl in photo composite is my daughter)

~B

Challenge Entry - Switch

Single Frame Stories Prompt: Switch

The prompt this week over here is Switch (as indicated above). As usual, images came to mind when I read it. I had to figure out how to convey the instant mental pictures, the meanings of the word to me, to others. I wasn't sure how I would do that.

All that is typical reaction to prompts.

I happened to acquire a photo of my grandmother this week. I created a high-resolution scan of the photo to "clean it up." I had already written my 100 word story, so the text for an image was somewhat in my mind. I had the photo in my editing software... The next thing I knew, I was working on my entry. I made a few different version. I ended up with two that I kind of liked.

One the focus was more on the words.



The other focused a more on the woman.



Both, I'd say, were topical.

I couldn't choose which I liked. So, I shared them with a friend. She chose the second, saying it was easier to read.

I still had another image in my mind though. Another meaning that was just as strong. It was a different kind of switch.


"Picking a proper switch isn’t always easy." 

To my knowledge, only one entry per challenge per person is allowed. So I went with my grandmother, smaller lettering. If I could though, I'd also contribute the "Proper Switch."

~B

{Edit: Whiskey has informed me that more than one entry is allowed. "Proper Switch" shall be submitted as well. Yesh!}

Challenge Entry - Anonymous

Prompt: Anonymous

By prompt, I do not mean "without delay." I mean that I have attempted my first entry in Single Frame Stories. Although, I am not certain I made the deadline or followed all the rules for submission. I guess that's what I get for procrastinating. I'm not too worried. See, there is a good chance that there will be a new prompt, a new challenge, in less than 24 hours time from the point I hit "publish" on this post right here. That means, I have another week to create an attempt at describing something with a single image.

I'm not sure why I want to do this to myself. I still can't get into virtual worlds. I don't have the time. I haven't the skill to draw or paint the images in my mind. So if you can tell me what the fillet-Mignon I'm doing this for, well, that would be great. Thanks.

Anyhow, this is what I submitted for the challenge that ends right about ... *looks at the clock* ............ NOW!



Just to be clear, no, that is not anything like what I had pictured in my mind. And I've been creating images in my mind for these challenges for several weeks now.

Yes, that is on my flickr stream. No, not my old account. I had trouble getting into that one. I've a new flickr account.

So, now I'm all updated. You are all update. And we are done here.

Good night. 

~B