Going to Portland today to look at art and hunt for a show or two to write about. This instead of staying home to listen to/read the play-by-play of the final table of the WSOP.

The moment I saw the photos at 1430 Contemporary Fine Art last week I knew the landscape, even though Devon Oder photographed areas a thousand miles from my own. In both places they are the ones we alter into crags where there once was a forest.

The small railroad that primarily services the lumber mills to our east has been working to clear their right of way of trees for the past two years. After cutting, they haul the trees back up to a clearing —more a staging area — presumably to be chipped and shipped, although the pile just gets longer and longer. You will see in the first photo that some enterprising folks have availed themselves of some of the protruding trees for firewood. In that the majority of the pile consists of deciduous hardwoods, (the firs were hauled away to the mill), this in itself is not a bad idea. And while there undoubtedly is much more wood that could be harvested, the pile is well over twenty feet tall, and too much enthusiasm could very well result in severe injury.

I have photographed this pile from time to time, and believe I have mentioned it here at some point. Pretty remarkable in its size last year, it has now doubled and I am working on a way to document that immensity. An initial attempt at videotaping it as I walked along failed to stay in focus, no doubt due to a technical oversight on my part. I did, however, manage some stills that I brought home and played with in PhotoShop. Again, not surprisingly similar to Ms. Oder's work.

It’s not something I make a big deal about, that birthday I just had, except to say that DW made on helluva nice blackberry cobbler. We waited to eat it for the movie choice for the evening was “Soylent Green.” I wasn’t going to mention the day were it not for the lose tie-in I felt with a rash of technological run-ins and problems.

Before I bought my new camera a friend had warned me that I would not be able to work in RAW format with my aging PhotoShop. Seems Canon doesn’t support older versions with the new products. He advised that since I have a Mac I purchase Aperture for both post and file maintenance. No problem, says I, and make my way to the Mac store. Of course the latest version of Aperture works only with the latest Intel-based Mac hardware. However, I am advised that Aperture 2 can still be found on the internet.

With winter coming on, the plan is to catalog not only my recent photos but also begin to archive the hundreds of slides I have of old sculpture and drawings. To do so, I would need a new scanner. My old one only works with Mac’s OS9, a ten year old version. And while I still have two OS9 machines, I did not want to bother. Besides, that old scanner has a malfunction that would require packing it off to get fixed, and I can buy a new scanner for what it would cost in repairs. (You know the story.) So, I read about a Epson scanner, the Perfection V500, and with a fifteen minute window in errands and appointments last week, I snatch one up. Home, I hook it up only to find that my computer can’t find it, Side of the box says Intel-based Macs only. It’s a 80-mile round trip to return it yesterday yet I now have one that works with my antiquated system.

I know 56 is not that old.

 Pull Toy (1992)

A new review.

http://www.ultrapdx.com/zero/

Now, if I can get permission to get closer...

Others me

Google Reader informs me that someone with my name died today in Florida. At age 40, and so close to my birthday.

The Florida me probably had a time of it if he lived there for any period, as there was another me in that state some time ago. Remember the homeless me who won a cool million from a McDonald's contest? Druggie, woman-beater, me. It must have gotten old after a while.

Back home it was the same, my alma mater sending bills for unpaid tuition fifteen years overdue. Closer inspection showed a more current date and different middle initial, not to mention age. Rent-A-Center wanted their furnishing back as well. Maybe it was the me who just bit it, but probably not, as there are many, many more.

Like the me who diddled some woman who worked in the stationery store. She called me to ask where I had made off to. I could not convince her that it wasn't me me, and to this day I wonder how she described my physical attributes with such accuracy.

Yesterday, the more literary of the two Professor Mes briefly looked at my website. I'm assuming it was him, or perhaps a colleague of his, in which case, he might be advised to watch himself, academia being what it is at times. Again, I'm assuming, as my experience in "publish or perish" mode is as an outsider who has no fear of refused tenure. Impermanence, well yes, to a point.

Let me get that door for me.