Practice. It’s not art, it’s practice, as I explained to a coworker the other day. I played piano for fourteen years, at times not particularly diligently as the mother can attest to, but at its core it demanded daily practice. Spend a day or two idle and the fingers are rusted to rigidity, no fluid natural motion to be had through them. Except, upon more reflection I realize, there was of course fleeting but true emotion in the practice on the keys. No artifacts (or digital files) were created, but the genuine sound was created as long as the strings rang.
But this here. This was shot Wednesday night, in part in panic, part in reassuring self confidence, as practice for Thursday’s headshot session for a client. It’s practice for the performance. Reinforcement of technique for the impending recital.
And I finally got around to splitting a portrait like this. I’ve been meaning, for quite some time, to experiment a bit with splitting a straight-on image like this. It has lived as an idea for months on a scrap of yellow legal pad. So here we’ve got it, a single image halved and rearranged.
The forthcoming S days…