Saturday, February 27, 2010

Ew, wash your hands.

So, I'm thinking that I need to extend this to whomever is listening to the tap tap tap of my fingers. Please go touch our website. Why do you think they call it Viral Marketing, anyway? :) So go ahead. Here, take my hand.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010


Images. So why use that term. When I worked out west at ProPhoto Supply, the photographers always called their photographs images or shots. Occasionally photos, but not commonly. Over the years it has occurred to me why.

When my hubby talks to me about shooting a new table or piece of furniture, I see in my mind what I want it to look like. I see an image. An image is like a poem. Everyone interprets it differently. Normally I never stage his pieces. This past weekend, he had a Cooper's table for me to shoot.

This table repurposed as a coffee table that has this curved top. Scott thinks maybe it was used by a barrel maker. So we had to prove to people that this piece could really be used as a coffee table. We took our glasses of wine and beer respectively and placed them on top. Perfect. Took out that same EA Poe book and placed it on the shelf below the curved top. Perfect. Now someone can imagine using this as a coffee table. It actually serves a purpose. 

We didn't stage the table in a room. We never do that, unless the room is totally NOT where you would ever use the piece (see the Monolith table shot in an abandoned boiler room). I like to let people "see" the piece within their own space whether it be an office or a home. I want them to create their own image of that piece. So we shoot the piece in a way that is old if the piece is contemporary; new if the piece is old. So the piece jumps out at you.
When it comes to my fine art shots, I still hold that they are images. They are not staged either; I never move objects, I move myself. God I love to shoot. 

Now that brandMOJO Interiors website is up  (still going through the 48 hour testing period), I can work on getting my own Etsy page up to sell my pieces, my shots, my images. brandMOJO Images. Just like this blog. I will take my snippets from a time, a place, a moment, that I have frozen in time and let people decorate their lives and spaces with those. Now it is time to create the image of me selling my own photographs. 

Friday, February 5, 2010

It must be time for a cleansing.

It's been raining. No, snowing, then icing, sleeting, and raining again. All day. Phew, forgot what this weather was like. The kicker is that it is easier to navigate it up north. They have the fleet to take care of this shit. Here, there are some very dedicated people helping as best as they can. So, getting around is tricky.
I had the craziest conversation with my mom earlier about "black ice." Something like this:

mom: I never heard the term "black ice" before about 10 years ago. I guess when you girls lived in Oregon.
me: I know. It's the name for ice you can't see.
[proceeds to tell me about my dad's theory on it, oils rise when the road freezes.]
mom: Ice is never good.
me: I know; like regular ice is good, but black ice is scary. Boogidee Boogidee.
mom: Like it is evil, like The Creature from the Black Lagoon.
me: Like Black Death. Cause regular death is no biggie.
mom: [he he]
me: No, the weather forecasters are racist against that color of ice. Ooh, white ice is good. Black ice is bad.
laughter ensues

Cabin fever has strange side effects.