Jennifer Miller: Fresh

Washington, DC, artist, Jennifer Miller, continues my recent project by writing about "fresh." As usual, I extend an invitation to all local artists who would like to participate in this effort. Just email me!

Orchid #2 (Washington, DC, 2004)
Photograph

Jennifer Miller: Fresh

Fresh: taking notice

I am a multi-tasking, hurrying worrier. Doing three things at once is how I operate. When I take a walk, instead of looking around at the scenery, I'm busy making a grocery list in my head, mentally rearranging my apartment furniture, and figuring out the most efficient way to go about my daily errands.

I used to never be like this. When I was a child, I was observant and could focus on a single task. I watched and noticed everything around me. One of my favorite activities was sitting outside watching ants do their chores. Or going to the creek to see water bugs skate on the surface. I studied spiders in their webs, and seeds gracefully falling from trees. I never got bored because there was always something new to see. If you look at a scene long enough, you'll see it in a way you didn't notice at first glance.

I'm not sure what changed me, maybe just having too much to do and too little time to do it. Photography is what helps me get back to the perceptive, focused person I used to be. Enjoying the process of seeing is the best part for me. I like to walk around for hours in the same area until new details emerge. A single blade of grass. A building's reflection on a river. The back of a flower. An exotic drink umbrella left on a windowsill. A table leg shaped like a lion. Details I hadn't noticed right away, and would not have noticed had I just passed through.

When thinking about the word "fresh" I'm reminded of a morning I spent photographing at a public park known for its wildlife. While I was walking back through the woods that bordered the park, I noticed how beautiful the light rays were, streaming in through the trees and mist. The vegetation was very green and dewy, and a moss covered log had tiny spurts of plants growing on it. I had been enjoying the scene for several minutes when a huge group of bird watchers came through, cameras at the ready. They got really excited when they saw me, and one woman approached. She nodded at my camera and whispered, "What are you photographing? Is it a deer? Where is it?" When I told her I was looking at the light rays and the plants, she rolled her eyes and yelled to the group "There's nothing to see here." They marched on.

But there was so much to see! If they only had paused for a moment, I'm sure they would have agreed. Fresh is seeing something anew - taking notice of what one might normally overlook.

Blue Grass (Rosslyn, VA, 2000)
Photograph

Previous Posts:

Charles Neenan: Tradition
Kelly Towles: Color
Ryan Mulligan: Originality
Matt Hollis: Confinement
Dean Fueroghne: Originality
James W. Bailey: Obligation
J. Coleman: Depiction
Andy Moon Wilson: Decision
Molly Springfield: Language
Bryan Whitson: Scene
Elyse Harrison: Motivation
Jiha Moon Wilson: Influence
Alexandra Silverthorne: Derivative
Jose Ruiz: Contemporary
Kathleen Shafer: Focus
Jennifer McMackon: Connection
Gregg Chadwick: Responsibility
Warren Craghead: Material
Angela Kleis: Purpose
Peter Reginato: Order
Anna L. Conti: Community
Wayne Schoenfeld: Content
Elizabeth Morisette: Naive
Tim Tate: Craft
Jesse Cohen: Hidden
Greg Ferrand: Experience
Joseph Barbaccia: Commitment
Jamie Wimberly: Burden
Christine Tillman: Discovery
Candy Keegan: Personality
Allison B. Miner: Introspection