In 8th grade, I took an interest in video production. I didn’t know the first thing about, well, anything really, I just thought it was cool. Apparently so did a couple of other kids because it was just me and them, all 4 of us.
Now I don’t recall the teachers name, but I do remember what he looked like. Long brown hair, long side burns, mustache and thick, dark rimmed glasses. Come to think of it, he sort of reminded me of Woody Alan. And I remember where he came from: Connecticut Public Television. This guy was my hero.
The details are somewhat fuzzy, but I do recall that our equipment. I smile with fondness when I think about the old fashion and very large black & white video camera, a separate reel-to-reel recorder (yes! reel-to-reel!) and a separate battery back. It took at least two people to manage all of that gear, or in our case, 3 eighth graders.
It’s amazing how far we’ve come since those days, and today just about anyone with a cell phone has the ability to recorder video. In color. In HD! And it all fits in your pocket. Amazing.
The video posted here is just for fun. I enjoy the song and I was looking for an outlet for some burning creativity. I went out and filmed some windy scenes (apologies for the camera shake in some of the shots, but it was really windy!) and then inserted some other footage and combined it all with still images that I have shot over the years.
If you like what I did, leave a comment! Even better, subscribe to my blog! And thanks!
Gear: Canon 7D & Canon lenses. Still shots on Canon 20D and Canon 7D. Edited using Sony Vegas.
Friday, October 12, 2012
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
My childhood is full of happy memories. Like the many generations of children that came before me, I enjoyed the change of seasons, especially the transition from summer into fall.
As a youngster growing up in the back country of northwestern Connecticut, fall was the most beautiful time of the year. The crisp morning air, the color of the leaves in the trees, the crunchy sound they made under your foot and the swooshing noise they made as you walked through endless piles of them along the route to school.
But the best part of fall was the smells. Leaves that have fallen gracefully from the trees gently float down and land all around the grass and the sidewalks below the tree, and eventually the hundreds and thousands of them start to breakdown. The smell of old leaves is heavenly, but now mix that smell in with the aroma of the smoke coming from the neighbors wood stove and throw in all the old apples on the ground from Mrs. Higgins's crab apple tree that I passed on the way to school.
This morning I watched my 8 year old stand at the end of our driveway, waiting for his bus. Unbeknownst to him, the synopsis's in his young brain are quietly forming memories that he will hopefully remember with fondness. His ears were making note of the crunchy sound of the leaves under his size 5 sneakers, the cool air on his face, and the familiar smell of diesel that arrived with a gust of wind as the bus pulled up. With the yellow flashing lights transitioning to red, Robbie stood there as he always does, waiving to the bus driver as she slowly came to a full stop and opened the squeaky bus door. With a quick hug and a kiss, he climbed up the steps, took his seat, and he was gone.
While many of the same smells and sounds are the same as they were when I was a child, the one thing I hope he remembers with fondness will be that of his endearing father, clicking away with the camera, desperately trying to capture the fleeting moments of time that he can never get back.
Making memories, making pictures; perhaps the combination of the two will help Robbie to further enjoy these little moments when he has children of his own and the memories he will help them create.