Making the Familiar Strange

A stroll in Abbo's Alley, a few hours after a dusting of snow, made me think of a quotation I used to post on classroom walls (or hang from dropped light fixtures): “The purpose of art is to impart the sensation of things as they are perceived and not as they are known. The technique of art is to make objects 'unfamiliar', to make forms difficult, to increase the difficulty and length of perception because the process of perception is an aesthetic end in itself and must be prolonged. Art is a way of experiencing the artfulness of an object; the object is not important." (Viktor Shklovsky)

A third of the pictures published so far in 365.2014 are attempts at portraying my "process of perception." 

I opened my front door, looked into the snow, saw the streetlight, and snapped a photo, but when I looked at it, the picture did not match what perceived. So I manipulated it to look like a woodblock from a child's picture book.

The next day, I noticed a blue bicycle chained to tree near the Chapel. The colors -- blue, golden orange, forest green, brown, white -- made me stop the car and get out. I snapped a photo, but when I looked at it, the picture just wasn't right. So I emphasized the blue and softeedn the stone to create something like a watercolor image from an Advent calendar.

A week later, walking uphill at Lake Cheston, I noticed the back of the port-o-let, graffitied. I snapped many photos, settled on one, but when I looked at it, the picture didn't shock me as the painting did. So I brought out the bold blue and red and spray drippings.

The very next day, I stopped for a caramel shake at a Sonic, and while waiting, I took several shots of the neighboring menu sign. When I looked at the photo, though, it didn't match what I felt I had seen. So I made it shine and sparkle like a happy slap-in-the-face from the 1960s.

And today, in Abbo's Alley -- the ground, stones, and trees still cold and dripping ice water and shards -- I stopped at Trink's Terrace, struck as if for the first time by the beautiful greens and blues of the ivied wall, old paint peeling and vines naked, green leaves above, bruised leaves glowing below. I took several photos, but once again none matched what I perceived. So again I manipulated one to bring out the linear and fragmented qualities of the old wall, topped and bottomed with circus-like jumbles of new and old growth.

Now, looking at my 2014 published photos, I realize that I have been playing more freely, improvising, and making the familiar strange. Seeing is more than believing: it's imagining, too.