For me photography is symbolic reality. It is possible to capture things seen, and unseen, and do with them whatever. To perceive a world and remake it as you wish - or not. This is a life in which I can and do exist. (Click on image to view enlargement.) Frames and coloured matts are only suggestions which I like. Pigmment prints (giclée) are available at 16" on the long side mounted to 2 ply 20" x 16" Strathmore archival white boards at $125. Contact me at: jaydeehill@att.net
Tuesday, July 31, 2018
Friday, July 27, 2018
Thursday, July 26, 2018
Tuesday, July 24, 2018
Monday, July 23, 2018
Metal Sculpt In IR, Peoria Botanical Garden
It usually isn't a good idea to use another's artwork in an effort to make it your own. I don't know the name of the artist but feel that the work is quite strong with the selection of the proper background in InfraRed. My only addition is that back ground and the selection of that part of the work which makes the strongest presentation.
Sunday, July 22, 2018
Walking On the News
I don't often take this genre photograph. There are so many other great photographers who excel at this stuff. However, after watching a lot of people walk across this spot it finally occurred to me that it might make an interesting snapshot.
Wednesday, July 18, 2018
Friday, July 6, 2018
Wednesday, July 4, 2018
Resignation
Resignation
Entered in Gallery 510's 2017 October National Art Competition; Breast Cancer Awareness Section. Winner of 1st place over all other sections. Depicts a woman with left breast removed. The following poem by Martha Manning from Undercurrents appeared along side the photograph:
Entered in Gallery 510's 2017 October National Art Competition; Breast Cancer Awareness Section. Winner of 1st place over all other sections. Depicts a woman with left breast removed. The following poem by Martha Manning from Undercurrents appeared along side the photograph:
Depression is such a
cruel punishment.
There are no fevers,
no rashes, no blood
tests to send people
scurrying in concern,
just the slow erosion
of self, as insidious as
cancer. And like cancer,
it is essentially a
solitary experience,
a room in hell with only
your name on the door.
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