Visible value

Spring

Summer

When I first began taking photographs, I started a collection that continues to this day.

I now have boxes and albums and binders full of prints, negatives, and transparencies.

I never see them, but I know where they are.

With digital cameras (and smartphones) came even more photographs I could store away for that rare occasion when I needed an image.

Fall

Winter

Now I have a digital photo frame that's finally allowing my many fave pics to see the light of day.

I've loaded the memory card with pictures of people, places and plants in bloom.

The display of images reminds me of moments captured and the cycle of seasons.

It's documentation and reaffirmation all in one.

The utility of art

In today's app-happy culture, I've run across an entirely different display of creative applications.

Most visits to restaurant restrooms are brief in-and-out episodes, no cameras please. But in this case, I took the time to mark the occasion with a photo. The National Mechanics Bar & Restaurant in Old City Philadelphia offered this plumbing twist. It makes you wonder which came first: the artful concept or a workable fix for a bad piece of planning.

The mechanical mailbox presented another fresh approach to old technology. Was this a case of using (or reusing) the supplies at hand -- or searching for a novel way to recycle a piece of the past?

This last example is more organic. It reminds me of the cairns I've seen in my travels, most recently in Stanley Park, Vancouver. There is less overt utility here, although it does have some promotional value. The squash cairn was used to draw shoppers into the nearby Hidden Treasures Antiques in Gradyville, Pennsylvania.

There are times when I like to stroll through art galleries, but my visits are few in number these days. So when I can stumble across art in real life (or life imitating art), it's a wonderful treat.

Does not compute

For me, the only thing better than buying new stuff is getting rid of old stuff. By "rid" I mean donating, handing down, or recycling.

I like cleaning out my basement, but not clogging landfills.

Recently, I ran across a news item in the local weekly paper about an electronics recycling day. Just about anything with a power cord would be taken.

I could easily compile a decent list of no-longer-powerful objects I wanted to part with:

• an 11-year-old CPU;
• a telephone from, maybe, the 1970s;
• a battery recharger with nothing left to give.

It was almost fun to drive through the recycling line, having eager volunteers take the stuff out of my car and off my hands. I don't know who was happier: me, for clearing out my obsolete stash; or them, for adding to their collection.

I left feeling lighter -- and immediately began a mental list of things to put aside for the next time:  computer cables, power cords, a boom box. And I'm just getting started.

Buying new technology must be akin to buying a boat. They say the second happiest day of your life is when you buy your boat; the happiest is when you sell it.

So remember this when lusting after that hottest electronic must-have: today's next-generation technology is tomorrow's recycling.

This space intentionally left blank

Sometimes it feels like I spend my day breaking rocks. At least that's the sense I get when I'm chipping away at a project day after day, with little visible progress.

When I'm caught up in a project or deadlines are looming, it's hard to find enough spare brain cells to post anything interesting on this blog. Now I understand why so many financial reports have pages bearing the single sentence: "This space intentionally left blank." Although, in that case, there probably isn't an accountant who can simply explain what's been going on behind the scenes.

At any rate, I'm not alone when it comes to blogging brain freeze. There are enough of us to provide ample fodder for one guy who's been tracking the apologies people post for not blogging.

Cory Arcangel has created a blog that re-posts other people's posts about not blogging. He calls it Sorry I Haven't Posted: "Inspiring Apologies from Today's World Wide Web." Among those he has collected: 

• "Hey gang. Sorry I haven’t posted in a while. I recently had a very, very, very, minor, very, very, very, mild heart attack."
• “For a very long time, I wanted nothing more than to be a writer. This blog was one of the ways I tried to follow that. But simply put, I’m tired of slamming my head up against the wall and getting nowhere." 

You get the idea.

If nothing else, these apologies are inspiring as a collective statement on blogging -- or the lack of it. If I have something to say or share, you'll find it here. If not, well, what does blank space look like in a blog anyway.