Imaginings

Created for Easter and Passover, 2019, Hands of Friendship across the earth.
A view last night from my combination Obervatory+Studio
My Niece playing the role of Madame Thaileah, Clairvoyant.
I love flowers and hate most flower photography, much of which is only useful as illustrations on seed packets. Occasionally, a friend has given me gifts of floral beauty, and another contributed one of her lovely eyes for the sake of art.
It's pouring rain out, and the only items on the workbench of my studio are a melon (cataloupe) and a glove.
p.p1 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 18.0px Baskerville; -webkit-text-stroke: #000000} span.s1 {font-kerning: none} Take 10 colored pencils, an aerosol of shave cream, a single leaf picked up on the street near my home, mix the ingredients well in a camera until they look and taste right, let them stew for a few nights in your brain, add a pinch of powdered Photoshop and a heaped tablespoon of imagination, then place them in a warm monitor for a day or two. Results my differ.
Because I’m unable to hike up the Sierras or down the Grand Canyon, having limitations is a useful creative challenge. So I ride my stationary bike, conduct the great orchestras of the world, look at the sky above San Francisco Bay, and dream. So much of life is about saying yes and saying no, and it’s often hard to tell which is right.
You may not know this - few people do - but on full-moonlit nights, Jinns, the spirit survivors of those who labored on the Taj Mahal, come out to play, deconstructing the Taj and then carefully putting it back together again before dawn. I photographed there one night, pretending to be one of them, hiding my camera in the folds of my Jinni cloak.
Aside from being a physician and a musician, Susan is a talented maker of art quilts. Her latest completed work is reminiscent of a myterious landscape from a new world, hence its title "Opus 95," the catalogue number of Dvorak's New World Symphony. Susan is pictured here emerging from the quilt. I enhanced the ususual color of her eyes, especially the left, to mimic the eye of a tiger. The pattern of the cloth endows the right side of her face with "whiskers," and the tip of her nose spotted, as though moist. The Tigress Quilter.
Six hundred years before it became a tiny northeastern corner of the Austro-Hungarian Empire in 1867, the Kingdom of Schach was ruled by King Rudolph “The Rapacious,” abetted by his conspiratorial Bishop, Sacramento “The Slimy.” A coup, led by gallant knight Sir Equus “The Exalted,” offed both king and bishop, and restored Queen Justitia “The Just,” to the Leaf Throne. Now part of the European Union, Schach retains its traditional single-note currency, the Bauer. Schach hosts the annual World Chess Tournament.
What Beethoven heard during the composition of the second movement of his Fifth Symphony.
Virtually all artists who work with two-dimensional media attempt to create the illusion of a third dimension with uses of perpsective, light, shading, color and texture. In this piece, time, the fourth dimension, is also included.
This image combines three elements: the face of a store window mannequin, a weathered wall at the Carmel Mission, and the window on my neighbor's wall. I created it over a period of thirty years. Click here for the story.
Pushing the envelope is what I love to do. The envelope in this image was designed by Gus DiZerega. It helps to have access to my grandchildren's toys, too.
This image is in homage to the painting Ceci n'est pas une pipe (This is not a pipe) from the series "The Treachery of Images" by René Magritte (1898-1967). He was making the point that images are representations of objects, not the objects themselves. 
What makes our planet unique? Pavarotti sang here! A print of this image is in the Luciano Pavarotti Foundation, Casalecchio di Reno, Province of Bologna. I've colored my fantasy Italy yellow, in deference to Goethe who begins one of his poems with Kennst du das Land, wo die Zitronen blühn? (Knowest thou that land where the lemons blossom?)  
For my birthday, my wife gave me a beautiful vase made by our friend, master ceramicist Catharine Hiersoux. Intrigued by the glaze, which suggested the rings of Saturn, I spent hours looking at this object and wondering how I could incorporate an image of it into my photography. Eventually, by repeating the image in a way that implied a vanishing point in infinity, I created a new galaxy.