Autumn Falls

What?! Three short days ago I was wearing a halter dress and peep-toe shoes and today I’m wrapped up in a coat, gloves, hat and a scarf. Brrrr, transition from summer to “autumn” in Oregon can be abrupt.

The weekend - spent not only in a different zip code, but in an alternate weather universe - held delights and surprises for us during the 37th annual Corvallis Fall Festival. The atmospheric conditions in terms of Egyptian blue skies, citrine colored leaves as well as purse-friendly customers helped to create a profitable and satisfying couple of days.

Corvallis, Oregon received its lovely name from the Latin phrase cor vallis, which means Heart of the Valley. Appropriate, don’t you think, as it sits smack in the middle of the Willamette Valley. Before Salem, Corvallis was the Territory of Oregon’s capital in 1855.

Enough of the history lesson. Today, Corvallis is home to OSU (Oregon State University) and the Beavers. They luv-a their orange and black. And their tattoos. So much so, perhaps one enthusiast dyed her pit hair for the home game.

Looking at the photos we take, it’s occurring to me that they reveal as much about us, what we notice, how we see the world, as it does of the place du jour er, week. This next little arty piece inspired no doubt by Edvard Munch’s The Scream is a partial percent self-portrait. I’m cor vallis, that is in the heart of the valley between keeping an open mind and being continually surprised by others and say, their orange armpity hair-ness.

It isn’t until the digital film is developed that we notice that day’s theme and focus, repeating patterns and overlapping colors and textures.

While at an out-of-town show, Groom and I take turns slipping out of the booth and wandering the environs, ever on the hunt for things that catch our eye. We rarely have the opportunity to walk around together, so our way of navigating this separate-togetherness is to each take our own photos and then sit around the glowing computer screen by night, offering our day’s treasure to the other.

We are continually surprised by how much we think alike and yet how one will capture an image unseen by the other. Angles, perspectives and subject matter continue to call us and we are excited as our own hearts (and minds) open to answer.

We refer to this one as “blue chair in green ivy.” And as anyone who’s walked around with me while I’ve had the camera will attest, I loooooove mannequin faces. I’m currently building an entire series on them, to be revealed at a later date.

Ha! This amazing vendo-matic postcard machine, well, let’s just say I didn’t know taking photos at an art show could be considered hazard duty. The “amazing” part of the vendo-matic postcard machine was that it produced bubbles and squirted water. I got hit right in the face with a shot of water, so I renamed it the Blasto-matic. Picture me dripping wet on the other side of the camera, my Sunday coif wilting and my stern face smiling. Sort of smiling. Later.

Speaking of water and cameras, as it’s raining and I’m pouting, we haven’t figured out yet what to do about taking photos while it’s coming down in buckets, cats and dogs, or any other euphemism for precipitation. So who knows what we’ll discover in the next seven days…