Monthly Archives: April 2009
I had some “Mommy-Time-Off” today and went out to take photos of the horses and anything else I found in the pasture that would be Photo Card worthy. I think I got a couple of neat shots that would be interesting enough to make into photo cards to sell at our Peddler’s Faire next month — I’m wondering what you think.
This one I love, it’s of our red dun mare Cali and I love all the color that it shows and the richness of the color too. I tried it in a more washed out look but it seemed less dramatic. I also made sure to crop it in the rule of thirds so her eye is in the lower right corner and matching up with the grid lines to make the photo more appealing — as rule, most of the time, things are not as interesting centered.
I’m kind of thinking this picture of Sunnie’s muzzle munching on the new spring grass only appeals to me — I tend to think I have a rather “strange” eye. What do you think? Too artsy, too… too… too… I really am not looking to have this one on a card but could it? Have you ever heard the name “barn blind” in the terms of horse breeders? Well it can happen to photographers too, especially those that photograph their own animals.
How about our resident geese?
And this last one, I can’t decide on which looks best; colorized, black and white, or color — I’m leaning more on the black and white.
2. Black and White
… Or, not at all?
Also, would you think it would be more interesting or attractive to package in bundles of, say, 5 cards or individually?
And, would you do bundles of themes or miscellaneous?
I appreciate your thoughts and help!
Linger awhile upon some bending planks
That lean against a streamlet’s rushy banks,
And watch intently Nature’s gentle doings:
They will be found softer than ring–dove’s cooings.
Sometimes goldfinches one by one will drop
From low hung branches; little space they stop;
But sip, and twitter, and their feathers sleek;
Then off at once, as in a wanton freak:
Or perhaps, to show their black, and golden wings,
Pausing upon their yellow flutterings.
— John Keats