Photog Friday-Composition Continued...Rule of Thirds

Hi'ya folks! Happy Friday :-)

I love helping out other photographers and enthusiasts. I have received wonderful feedback from people about Photog Friday so I am happy to announce that I will be continuing this weekly post! To those of you that are just joining us, you can check out my story by clicking here. I am not an expert, but I am studying and practicing photography on a daily basis and decided that I wanted to share my journey with you.

Let's get started....

I have to admit, when I learned this little composition trick - I started seeing significant growth in my work so hear it goes… The Rule of Thirds....

When you look through your viewfinder, try and imagine the picture you see cut into thirds both vertically and horizontally using two vertical lines and two horizontal lines spread evenly spaced throughout the frame. Some cameras have the option to display your gridlines in the viewfinder to use as a guide so you may want to check your manual.  Now, using these lines as a guide, try to keep the focus of your main subject at one of the thirds...

For example in the picture below, if you can imagine putting a grid over it, you would see that her eyes line up with the top horizontal third and almost right in line with the right vertical third. Doing this gives the subject a very specific background for the audience to see and feel without taking away from the subject. Can you imagine if she was dead center in the middle of the frame? The picture wouldn’t have the flowy (Yes, I think I just made that word up) elements that I think it has right now. It gives the wind that is blowing her hair and the grass a very specific direction...

In the picture below, I have the dog in the top one-third and slightly over the left one-third of the frame. This composition allows the audience to see where the dog came from and where he is moving to. If you are going to take pictures of animals in motion, it is often important to follow the rule of thirds because most of the time, the audience will want to see where the animal is moving to and what they are like in their natural element.

The rule of thirds helps significantly with the story telling part of photography. It makes the audience want more (in a good way).

Try to never put the horizon in the middle of your picture...you want to show the tallness of the trees, the depth of the sky, or the beauty of a field of flowers....(notice the road ends and the horizon begins right at the bottom 1/3 line)

Last, but not least….there are some times when you must fill the frame with a beautiful face….The only thing to remember about this is that you will want to focus on the eyes at the top third of the picture…

Until next Friday,

Stacy Hart

One More for Love The Story: Chapter 9 - Me, Myself, and I

It was her. While still in formation, I tried to catch a glimpse of her out of the corner of my eye, but she was too far down the rank for me to make a positive visual identification. It was not until after roll call was dismissed that I confirmed that the person who claimed to be Sergeant Morey was the true blue, drop dead gorgeous, puts my heart on a roller coaster: Sergeant Stacy Morey. Right after roll call, Sergeant Marx and I went into the break room to pick up my tool box and discuss which planes we’d be splitting off to. A few minutes into our conversation Sergeant Morey walked right by us nearly brushing her shoulder against mine. I turned my head as she passed by me and, as she went to leave the building, I saw her face.


Noticing my prolonged gaze, Sergeant Marx asked, “How about that, Hart?” Nodding his head toward Sergeant Morey just as the sliding glass doors closed behind her.


“What do you mean?” I asked, hoping he wasn’t going to completely call me out for staring.


“Sergeant Morey. You know she’s divorced right?” He said as if everyone was aware of her relationship status.


“Oh really? No, I didn’t know that.” I said, using all the focus I could manage to remain calm. My mind was traveling at a thousand miles an hour. I tried to mentally put together everything that was going on in this situation. Sergeant Morey was not only going to be on my shift, but she also was no longer married … and I was in a committed relationship. My heart buried itself somewhere behind my stomach. There it was. Not that I thought I stood a chance of being with her, but there was no chance I was going to pursue her while I was with Melissa.


“Yeah, she has been divorced for some time now. She’s dating that Airman Bollard guy who works at the tool crib.” Said Sergeant Marx, as he got up from the table to grab a snack.


“Oh, ok.” I replied. Honestly, I was relieved. It would be impossible to come to work every day and watch the guys on my shift try to impress her with their pick-up lines and corny jokes while I stood by and watched her get swept off her feet. As long as she was with someone else it meant she was off the market and, although it made the idea of being with her even more farfetched, it also meant I couldn’t be too hard on myself for being in a relationship while she was single.


I grabbed my tool box and met Sergeant Marx at the snack bar. We called for a truck to pick us up and take us out to our respective planes. As we headed out the door, I saw Sergeant Morey standing right outside the smoke pit in mid conversation with one of my coworkers, Airman York. He was tall, lean, and spoke with a monotone voice. They were standing about twenty feet away. She was holding a cigarette in one hand in a mature confident way while Airman York was completely engaged in their conversation, not breaking eye contact even for a second. Sergeant Marx went to the smoke pit and I stood just outside the door waiting for the truck.


In the time I spent peering over at the conversation between Sergeant Morey and Airman York, I realized something. Airman York was in a relationship, had been for some time, and seemed to have no agenda behind their conversation. They were laughing at times and serious at others, but they both appeared to be genuinely enjoying each other’s company for the pure satisfaction of good conversation…I had it all wrong. When I thought about approaching her, I was always concerned with myself. How do I look? What will I say? What is the best way for me to approach her? I was so busy feeling intimidated or trying to prognosticate the outcome of my introduction that I never once considered what it might be like to actually get to know her. I never thought of what a good friend she might be. Or that she might be really smart or tell great jokes. Or that she might have interesting stories or like the same sports as I do. For all I knew she was rude, conceded, and annoying. The point is: I didn’t know. I had been so focused on beating myself up for not having a chance to be her boyfriend, that I hadn’t considered what an incredible person she might be and how enjoyable it could be to have her in my life…even if we were just friends.


I watched her laugh in her conversation and heard Airman York say, “That’s what it’s like in relationships. When you find someone who you can put up with, you marry them.”


“I think you have it all wrong, York.” Was her light hearted response.


Relationships…that’s a conversation I can get in on. I thought to myself. Without any hesitation or evaluation, just a “here we go”, I joined in.

The Blue Cloak Wonder and Pink Suit: How Not to Take Life So Seriously

I dream that “Molly Maids” cleans my house. And that on Saturday, the only thing I come downstairs to (after sleeping in until 9:00am) is the smell of fresh bacon sizzling on the skillet and a nice cheesy omelet hitting my breakfast plate. If I may continue this dream… let’s throw in some chirping birds, fresh morning warm breeze blowing in through my window screens and opening the front door to get a better view of the white picket fence lined with assorted colors of lilies that surround our front yard... Ah…sigh….


Instead, I roll out of bed as the Addisyn alarm promptly goes off at 6:30am. I roll up onto the edge of my bed and stretch my hands over my head. Then I sleepily reach for my cell phone to check out the time in hopes that it would show a time later than 6:30am as if a later time would make all my tiredness disappear. 6:30 a.m….what is she? A rooster! With one big inhale of fresh air, I find motivation to make it to my feet and stumble to her room while avoiding all the land mines of clothes and toys that are scattered about the upstairs. We venture downstairs where my dreams of fresh bacon and cheesy omelets are replaced with the reality of needing that first cup of coffee. I start thinking of the things I need to do this weekend: pack away Addisyn’s birthday decorations, dust, vacuum, clean floors, laundry, grocery shop, edit pictures, and the list goes on and on…All I want to do is avoid the mess and enjoy my day off.


Cue the Blue Cloak Wonder and Pink Suit- one super hero and his trusted sidekick who have taken Saturday by storm. Just when my day couldn’t get any busier, they come to my rescue by showing me that I don’t have to take life too seriously. They fly around the house and make more of a mess, but in their dust, they fill the room with laughter and smiles. They have this amazing power to roll one great day into the next and the only thing that is left in their wake is the satisfaction of a great family weekend.


My life right now is all about balancing the ebb and flow of the monstrosity that is my “things to do” list and every time things get a bit too busy, I know that I can be rescued by the Blue Cloak Wonder and his trusty sidekick, Pink Suit… I’d take them over Molly Maids and a white picket fence any day.

Meet Pink Suit and Sir Oinks A lot




Sir Oinks A lot in the arms of the Blue Cloak Wonder with the Ring of Power - taking a break while Pink Suit fills the room with laughter



Pink Suit taking a break with the Blue Cloak Wonder trying to get reenergized from the Lantern of Candy and Ring of Power





Close-Up of the Ring of Power...



Pink Suit taking a break.



Retiring for the evening...





With Love,


Stacy

Photog Friday - Networking

Hi, everyone!

I want to continue the talk on composition next Friday because it is OH Sooo very important.  However, I thought today's topic was timely and just as important when it  comes to learning more photography. This post is going to be short because it's pretty simple. Get out there and NETWORK! Find, meet, befriend, other photographers. This will help you to grow in your photography and your business. Today I met with a local photographer in Delaware. Her name is Kaila Regina and she is pretty amazing. She has so much love and energy and she is giving. I used to get discouraged when I would reach out to photographers and they didn't return my email or phone call and then I met Kaila, and she restored my hope. Today we shot pictures of each other, bounced ideas off of one another and she taught me some neat tricks in how to deal with light. Please visit her website by clicking on her link here.


Kaila, I would second shoot with you any day. Thank you for today. You are one amazing chick!~

One More for Love The Story: Chapter 8 - Consistency

It’s a good idea to go into a party with low expectations. What we expect out of an event can significantly alter our experience. For example, if I would have gone into Bobby’s house expecting to see Rachel McAdams in a Martini glass… that would be setting the standard pretty high. Given the track record of Bobby’s parties, that type of expectation would lead to certain disappointment. However, because I was expecting Betty White with a cup full of pennies, I was pleasantly surprised when I was greeted by two fairly attractive women in their early twenties shortly after my getting to the party.

After saying high to Bobby and the rest of the crew, I found myself a seat at the couch expecting to discuss who the best guitarist ever was and play video games until 5:00 a.m. as was a typical night at Bobby’s. No sooner did I sit down on the couch than did the two new girls approach me in conversation.

“Hi, I’m Melissa and this is my friend Karen.” Said Melissa, standing barely five feet tall, looking at me with her big brown eyes and straight, dirty blond hair.

“That’s me”, said Karen with a smile. She was only about five-three herself, but looked much taller standing next to Melissa. Karen had brown eyes as well, but her hair was curly and a much darker shade of brown.

“Steve Hart. Nice to meet you.” I said and purposely remained sitting so not to tower over them with my six foot two inch frame.

“Nice to meet you.” Responded Melissa with a smile before they both left to mingle with a couple of other guys.

I later came to find out that Melissa and Karen were friends of Bobby’s friend Roy. He worked at a southern Delaware casino and invited one of his co-worker slot attendants, Melissa, over to Bobby’s house for the mid-week get-together. She brought her friend Karen; thus proving the mistake of assuming that because the girls were from the casino they were over 70 and addicted to slot machine gambling.

Melissa and Karen both seemed nice. I had never met either of them, but was glad to have them at the party. Adding two new girls to our crew of nocturnal maintainers brought an energy that drastically shifted the dynamic of our party. Instead of forming to the couch and passing around the XBOX controller, we were up throwing darts, playing card games, listening to music, and socializing amongst each other.

The party was small. It was me, Bobby, Bobby’s friend Roy, Roy’s wife, Melissa, Karen, and three other guys. The ratio was in my favor and within an hour of arrival, I approached Melissa and asked if she needed a partner for a game of 301 (a dart game).

“I think I remember you from somewhere” I said, knowing fully that I had never seen her before in my life, but that was the best line I could come up with so I had to see it through.

“I think I’ve seen you somewhere too.” She fell for it. We continued to talk and play darts and by the end of the first game it was obvious that Melissa was with me and off the market for the rest of the night.

I could tell Melissa was really into me. Everything I did was amazing, every band I liked- she liked and every joke I told was hilarious. It was a “me too” conversation and I knew it…

“So what’s your favorite band?” Asked Melissa.

“Matchbox Twenty.” I responded.

“Me too!” She said enthusiastically.

“ What about this band right here?” I asked pointing to the speakers while Mr. Jones by the Counting Crows filled the room.

“Uh, yeah, they’re ok.” She responded vaguely.

“Really? I love this song!” I said humming the tune.

“Oh yeah, me too! Oh, this song, yeah this song is awesome!” She said smiling then turning up the volume on the house system.

Yep, I was stuck in a “me too” conversation, but I chose to chalk it up to nervousness on her part and just enjoyed feeling like I could do no wrong for a night. I left the party with Melissa’s phone number and the impression that I had met someone with relationship potential. I called her a few days into my trip to California and talked to her every night for the two weeks I was gone. Then when I flew back into Philadelphia, she was there in her bright yellow Ford Focus ready to drive me home. Within a few days of my return, we made our relationship exclusive and exchanged the titles of “boyfriend” and “girlfriend”.

There it was. Life had finally come to some sort of consistency. I continued to be the most incredible person Melissa had ever met and grave shift was allowing me the freedom to perfect the art of aircraft maintenance. For the first time in a long time, I knew what to expect both at work and at home.

By the time early July 2005 rolled around, I had everyone’s work routines down. I arrived for the 7:00 p.m. roll-call a half hour early to check out a tool box and to find out ahead of time what problems I’d be troubleshooting that night. Smitty was outside smoking cigarettes and making a case for why the Denver Broncos would be Super Bowl Champs in 2006. Kevin wasn’t there yet, but would be showing up late and sneaking into the back of the formation just before we were called to attention. Sergeant Marx had been there since 6:00 p.m. getting the maintenance reports and looking up wiring diagrams at the break room table with a cup of coffee and a bag of chips.

After checking out my tools, I got up with Sergeant Marx about broken planes and possible fixes. The conversation took us right to 7:00 pm. We probably would have missed roll call if I hadn’t seen Kevin racing into the building and bursting right into the roll call room. Sergeant Marx and I got up from the table and quickly took our places in the formation just as Master Sergeant Portis called the flight to attention.

“Flight, ten-hut!” he called. We responded, snapping the heels of our boots together and pinning our hands to our sides as we came to attention. Master Sergeant Portis picked his clip board up off the table in front of the formation and started reading off the names of the people on night shift.

“Airman Bellos?” Master Sergeant Portis called with authority.

“Here Sir.” Responded Airman Bellos.

“Sergeant Creyton?” called out Master Sergeant Portis.

“Here sir.” Said Sergeant Creyton.

As he continued down the list, I thought about the last five months I had spent with Melissa. I reflected on how relieved I was to no longer feel the need to scour the east coast for a person to be with. Melissa was really nice, but she didn’t make my heart go…

“Airman Hart?” called Master Sergeant Portis, interrupting my thought.

“Here sir!” I replied, startled.

“Sergeant Marx?” Master Sergeant Portis continued.

“Here.” Replied Sergeant Marx.

Where was I? Oh, yeah, Melissa was really sweet to me, but…

“Sergeant Morey?” Called out Master Sergeant Portis.

She’s not on this shift. I thought, breaking bearing with a small smile. One of the day shift people must have ended up on our roll call sheet.

“Here sir.” Replied Sergeant Morey.

One Year

“Life minus Love equals zero” – Rick Warren


I began the journey of motherhood a little over one year ago. The night Steve and I left for the hospital to be induced, he asked me what I was most excited about. “I am ready to love her”, I replied. It was and always has been that simple…

This past Saturday almost fifty of our closest family and friends gathered in our small 1800 square foot townhouse to celebrate Addisyn’s one year birthday. And, although the craziness of decorating, cooking, cleaning, and preparing for the party consumed me from 7:00 am to 6:00 pm, the reality of all the love that surrounds my little girl became evident as I tucked her into bed after the last guest left. I touched her heart, kissed her forehead and felt the well of tears building. For an hour and a half we celebrated her first birthday and it was absolutely perfect, but to know that all those guests came because they love my little girl was more special than all the detailed decorations and yummy party food. The love in our home was so much bigger than any party I could ever throw for her.


Here are some of the details of the party...of course I covered everything EXCEPT for asking someone else to take pics...so for my daughters 1st birthday party, I have pics of the details before and her the next day, but not much in between. :-(

*this is the banner I was working on all week. The flags are made of scrapbook paper and letters are as well. I found stencils on the internet that I traced right off my computer. Tissue paper flowers are on each side of the banner.

Every part of Addisyn's sweet shop was covered with something that had to do with love or pink and red

Cupcakes were decorated by a friend from church. Thank you, Bobby Jo!

One of the candle bowls was entirely too big for the Pixy sticks it held. So I filled the gap by adding heart garland throughout the vase.

All the guest signed a frame and wrote something special about Addisyn. I plan to hang it in her room with a One Year Pic in the center.

She was cute as can be and even shared some with momma..Wish I had that pic :-(

She loves her new princess mobile :-)

One More for Love The Story: Chapter 7 - Night Shift

“It’s sixty-five feet to the ground” Said my trainer Sergeant Marx, as I peered over the edge of the top of the C-5’s mighty T-tail, breathing the cold winter air and exhaling a warm fog.

“How old is this harness?” I asked him, wrapping my frozen finger tips around the thin strap coming from the back of my harness that was connected to the plane by a single bolt.

“Don’t worry about it Hart” Said Sergeant Marx, reaching under his beanie cap to rub his bald head. “If you fall you won’t die. You might break your back, but you’ll live.”

Easy for him to say. He was merely poking his head through an access hatch at the top of the tail. I was crouched down six stories high, in fifteen degree weather, taking the screws out of a panel at the highest point of the plane.

“What time is it?” I asked, taking the last screw off the panel.

“One a.m., shifts half over.”

“Six hours down, six to go.” I replied, handing him the panel and a bag full of screws.

Grave shift was tough. I had been out of my training class and back on the flightline for a few months and was in the middle of experiencing my first real winter working on the planes. Smitty, Kevin, and I all requested to be on grave shift because it meant there would be less management around to tell us to clean the break room, stock the snack bar, or mop the bathroom floors.

“Can you pass me a flashlight?”

Sergeant Marx reached into a tool bag and handed me a small flashlight. I shined the light into the hole where the panel used to be and saw a broken wire coming from the back of one of the components.

“I see the problem. It’s a broken wire. We’re gonna have to order a new one then run it up through the tail when it gets here.”

“Ok, let’s call it in.”

Sergeant Marx and I left the plane and went into the break room of our main building to get warm and to order the new wire. After placing the order, we sat down at one of the break room tables.

“How long have you been out here on the flightline again?” I asked, watching Sergeant Marx make quick work of the bag of chips he had just purchased from the snack bar.

“Fifteen years.” He said in his raspy voice.

It might as well have been fifty years. He looked tired. Not tired like he needed a good night’s sleep, but the kind of tired that only years of twelve hour shifts in maintenance could put on a man.

“This place can wear you down.” He said, seemingly reading my mind. “When we have this conversation five years from now you’ll have a better idea of what I’m talking about.”

Don’t get me wrong, Sergeant Marx was a great maintainer. He knew the plane inside and out and could fix any problem that was thrown at him. He was highly respected and the “go-to” person for last minute problems. He was the best of the best at his job and everybody knew it. But, as I sat across from him that day, I didn’t see myself fifteen years down the road. I was good at my job and getting better by the day (or night), but I always thought I’d be doing so much more. I had pictured myself giving presentations in front of people or meeting with commanders; not tucked away on night shift ducking under the radar. I wanted to be inspiring people to do better or leading them through a problem. It was this conversation with Sergeant Marx that reminded me that part of the reason why I joined the military was to finish my two remaining years of college and get the degree I had started back in California. I’d have to look into that next semester.

There were two sides to the night shift. On the one hand, the work environment was as advertised. It was an excellent opportunity to learn my job with little demand of me to do other menial tasks. On the other hand, my personal life was upside down. Most people woke up at 7:00 am. I woke up at 4:00 pm. Most people were enjoying breakfast and coffee before work. I was having dinner and an energy drink. While working, it wasn’t that big of a deal. A twelve hour shift quickly became a fourteen hour shift. By the time I finally got home and had something to eat there was just enough time to take a shower, go to bed, wake up and start all over again. My personal life, however; was a different story.

We were mid-week partiers. A guy named Bobby who worked on my shift would throw get-togethers at his house in the middle of the week for all of us who were stuck having days off on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. I found myself invited to one such party the day before I was set to take a trip to California for two weeks. I had woken up at 4:00 pm and had a voicemail from Bobby that went something like this:

“Hey Steve, it’s Bobby. We’re all getting together at my house tonight. A buddy of mine invited some girls over from the casino. Should be a good time.”

Ordinarily I don’t like to go anywhere the day before I’m going to be on a plane for six hours. I like to stay at home, double check my packing, set two alarms, call my Mom, stuff like that. Also, after breaking down the message, the only real draw were the girls from the casino. It sounded intriguing and almost instantly I began visualizing the Vegas casinos I’d been watching on CSI. There would probably be a burlesque girl splashing around inside a giant martini glass and a bikini model standing on each side of the stem…and…visual gone. Reality check. I lived in Dover, Delaware. Not Atlantic City and certainly not Las Vegas. There were definitely beautiful women in Delaware, but I had been to the casinos before and most of the “girls” there weren’t college seniors they were senior citizens. They didn’t have martini glasses, they had bifocals and a scowl that would freeze your soul if you got too close to their cup of pennies. Still, I was curious. I’d be staying up until 6:00 am any way. Hanging out with Bobby and the crew sure beat late night infomercials and turkey hot dogs. I left my house ready for anything, but never expected to meet my next girlfriend.