Following a Dream in 2017 – Day 86 of 100

Some days don’t work out exactly as planned, but you have to make the most of it as best as you can. It’s easy to get frustrated and discouraged if you let it get to you. None of us know why it happens–bad luck, I suppose–but those days can be made into valuable learning lessons if you see them in that light.

The picture above was taken at Mono Lake, CA.  It’s a place that’s all about seeing the natural structures in the right light, at a proper distance. If you do, you come away with amazing shots to show to friends and family–or to just add to your portfolio of photos.

-Vincent Lowry (Author of American Vineyard)

Following a Dream in 2017 – Day 11 of 100

It took me two hours to drive home today on the 405 freeway in Los Angeles. I would have been driven to madness from the frustration of endless traffic had it not been for the spectacular view of the vibrant clouds during sunset. The sky went from yellow, to pink, to purple. I saw flocks of birds dot the horizon as they soared westward toward the Pacific. The view was a stark contract to the bustle of the city. For a moment, it seemed like I wasn’t driving in LA, but out on a country road.

Of course, nature’s show didn’t last forever. The horizon darkened, and the full weight of the endless gridlock fell upon my shoulders. It reminded me how quickly the colors could vanish, a transformation that is somehow both subtle and abrupt when paying attention to it.

Now, if only traffic could move at that same pace…

Following a Dream in 2017 – Day 6 of 100

My girlfriend just left to use the restroom; I’m not certain she is going to return. I’m sitting in a couch in a stylish lobby at the Terranea Resort in Palos Verdes, California, and I have two large 24×36″metal prints on a coffee table in front of me. The hope is that passing guests will see the prints, fall in love, and make an offer of some sort to take the artwork home with them. That is the hope. Unfortunately, it’s not looking promising.

My first problem: guests think the metal prints are part of the table itself. I obviously didn’t consider this issue when I first placed the photos down, and I’m now stuck wondering how I can prop the art up on the surrounding leather chairs in the lobby and not get kicked out by management. I’m already seeing suspicious glances from men dressed in sharp suits, wondering what the in the world I’m doing at the resort with such ridiculously oversized shots of the Santa Monica Pier and the Maine coastline. Nothing has been said to me yet, but I know words have been exchanged among the staff. My girlfriend believes so, too.

Say, where is that girlfriend?

I stop a marketing program on my laptop (more sales advice for rookies such as myself), place the computer beside me, and move one of the metal prints so that it’s leaning against the coffee table rather than laying on top of it. It’s my sad attempt to prove the table and the photo are separate items. I’m not selling a fine art photography coffee table. But should I? Hmm…it get’s me thinking.

The sun is setting on the Pacific, casting a warm orange glow behind a layer of scattered clouds. As a photographer, I’m itching to get outside and capture a few shots before I miss the opportunity–especially ten minutes after sunset, when the day’s last light sometimes produces amazing, ignited horizons.

I put the computer back in my lap, look up, and smile. I see something better than the view outside. A beautiful woman strides gracefully toward me carrying two large cups of cappuccinos. I had forgotten that there was a café near the restroom.

I’m a lucky guy, even without print sales.