Benjamin Everett

Benjamin Everett (@bejamin)

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342 posts      355 followings      376790 followers      6755 tags

Stories

Highlights

Floating about Idaho. A friend recently requested a cloud image for a project she was working on. They’re fun to make, and I was happy to have the excuse. Funny how it captures my summer too, a back to school paragraph, the gist of it, or at least the shadow is, sliding up and down sage hills, racing after distant floating things. Sometimes we’re just cats chasing laser beams, and that’s alright by me.

Floating about Idaho. A friend recently requested a cloud image for a project she was working on. They’re fun to make, and I was happy to have the excuse. Funny how it captures my summer too, a back to school paragraph, the gist of it, or at least the shadow is, sliding up and down sage hills, racing after distant floating things. Sometimes we’re just cats chasing laser beams, and that’s alright by me.

On a long enough time scale, everything is fluid.

On a long enough time scale, everything is fluid.

Holotropic. .
A while back on a sunny Sunday, I was stuck inside, injured and immobile, frustrated to say the least. Wondering if oxygen might help the healing, I started breathing, deep and full, and kept breathing that way, for a long while. Much more air than needed. What ended up happening was one of the more unique experiences of consciousness I can remember.  Partly because it was so unexpected. At first alarming, then beautiful. Apparently, as I learned years later, it’s a thing. The term Holotropic was coined by psychiatrist Stanislav Grof, and his method, which i’d stumbled into proximity of, was developed in the 1970’s after LSD was made illegal. Humans have been breathing for a while, so I’m guessing he wasn’t the first.
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One of the perceptual changes I experienced was feeling, (not really seeing, but sensing) everything as tho made of vibrating particles. Like everything was made of sand, but in motion like the static on an old tv. The varying groups of particles held together by consciousness. I looked at my chair, that stout character, and marveled that I didn’t fall through to the floor. I thanked my cup for holding tea, laughed with the silver physio ball across the room, and cried when conversing with the injured part of my body. Then it was over, and I was laughing again, bemused and wondering what just happened.

Holotropic. . A while back on a sunny Sunday, I was stuck inside, injured and immobile, frustrated to say the least. Wondering if oxygen might help the healing, I started breathing, deep and full, and kept breathing that way, for a long while. Much more air than needed. What ended up happening was one of the more unique experiences of consciousness I can remember. Partly because it was so unexpected. At first alarming, then beautiful. Apparently, as I learned years later, it’s a thing. The term Holotropic was coined by psychiatrist Stanislav Grof, and his method, which i’d stumbled into proximity of, was developed in the 1970’s after LSD was made illegal. Humans have been breathing for a while, so I’m guessing he wasn’t the first. . One of the perceptual changes I experienced was feeling, (not really seeing, but sensing) everything as tho made of vibrating particles. Like everything was made of sand, but in motion like the static on an old tv. The varying groups of particles held together by consciousness. I looked at my chair, that stout character, and marveled that I didn’t fall through to the floor. I thanked my cup for holding tea, laughed with the silver physio ball across the room, and cried when conversing with the injured part of my body. Then it was over, and I was laughing again, bemused and wondering what just happened.

Travel without leaving.
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This image is another experiment, constructed mostly out of a few small rocks and spray paint. The clouds are from Alaska.
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I’m continuing to be fascinated by the idea of proactive vs reactive consciousness.  That we have the power to experience whatever feelings we want, independent of external conditions, or locations, simply through our choice of thoughts. In part, that’s what these scale experiments are about for me. If you want to feel a sense of awe you can really cultivate that anywhere. Yes, “The mountains are calling” but so are small rocks. Perhaps Calvin and Hobbes said it best. “Magic is everywhere.”

Travel without leaving. . This image is another experiment, constructed mostly out of a few small rocks and spray paint. The clouds are from Alaska. . I’m continuing to be fascinated by the idea of proactive vs reactive consciousness. That we have the power to experience whatever feelings we want, independent of external conditions, or locations, simply through our choice of thoughts. In part, that’s what these scale experiments are about for me. If you want to feel a sense of awe you can really cultivate that anywhere. Yes, “The mountains are calling” but so are small rocks. Perhaps Calvin and Hobbes said it best. “Magic is everywhere.”

Color is a funny thing. I’m always shocked by its emotion. How much is applied symbolism, how intrinsic is its power? Just like music, our sense perception is related to vibration and velocity. Why does our nervous system react to wavelengths in such distinct ways?
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In art, I’ve always struggled a bit with yellow. These canola fields have sat on my computer for almost a year, feared and avoided. Over the weekend I took a breath, dove in, and failed miserably. These colors wouldn’t fit with any color theory I was aware of. Complimentary, Analogous, triad? Nope. It sent me on a long road of discovery to figure out what the hell was going on.
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My first stop was google, ‘yellow color themes’ nope nope nope. Next I spent some time with the artists Richard Diebenkorn and Wayne Thiebaud. Hmmm... things coming together. Soon thereafter I realized @___benthomas (a fellow Hasselblad Master) was doing amazing work with these these harmonies. Getting closer... (thanks Ben!) It was only with the final addition of Adobe’s color wheel website, that I discovered some confidence in this direction. What you see here is a mutation of the Analogous color option on that website, or a Pentagonal or Double Split Complimentary Harmony 🤓. A bit different for me, but fun. At least I’m less scared of yellow now. Wait, wasn’t yellow an old derogatory term for being scared? Yep, color is funny.

Color is a funny thing. I’m always shocked by its emotion. How much is applied symbolism, how intrinsic is its power? Just like music, our sense perception is related to vibration and velocity. Why does our nervous system react to wavelengths in such distinct ways? . In art, I’ve always struggled a bit with yellow. These canola fields have sat on my computer for almost a year, feared and avoided. Over the weekend I took a breath, dove in, and failed miserably. These colors wouldn’t fit with any color theory I was aware of. Complimentary, Analogous, triad? Nope. It sent me on a long road of discovery to figure out what the hell was going on. . My first stop was google, ‘yellow color themes’ nope nope nope. Next I spent some time with the artists Richard Diebenkorn and Wayne Thiebaud. Hmmm... things coming together. Soon thereafter I realized @___benthomas (a fellow Hasselblad Master) was doing amazing work with these these harmonies. Getting closer... (thanks Ben!) It was only with the final addition of Adobe’s color wheel website, that I discovered some confidence in this direction. What you see here is a mutation of the Analogous color option on that website, or a Pentagonal or Double Split Complimentary Harmony 🤓. A bit different for me, but fun. At least I’m less scared of yellow now. Wait, wasn’t yellow an old derogatory term for being scared? Yep, color is funny.

Going, and through. Exploring the play of liminality and scale with two small rocks found close to home. *Liminality: The quality of disorientation that follows the middle stage of a rite of passage. The threshold of a gateway between what was, and what will be. *Two small rocks: 10 and 15 inches.

Going, and through. Exploring the play of liminality and scale with two small rocks found close to home. *Liminality: The quality of disorientation that follows the middle stage of a rite of passage. The threshold of a gateway between what was, and what will be. *Two small rocks: 10 and 15 inches.

The conversations of passing formations. 
Halfway through a day long drive, I took a nap in the shade on the bench of a roadside picnic table. Clouds and trains whispered by on distant tracks of thought. Formations toward destinations, some on their way, and some already there.

The conversations of passing formations. Halfway through a day long drive, I took a nap in the shade on the bench of a roadside picnic table. Clouds and trains whispered by on distant tracks of thought. Formations toward destinations, some on their way, and some already there.

One of my favorite Mountains, deconstructed and reconstructed in about 20 photos. I love playing with the interaction of shapes, the notan of light and dark. The time spent observing and the possibility of seeing something new. The closeness felt to a place I love. Only in retrospect, is there consideration of meaning, of audience perception, of the expectations within photography. Is this no longer real? Would that question exist in painting? What is real? Are memories only true when viewed in sequence, correctly delineated in the space of time? Can something imagined contain truth? Hemingway talked a lot about capital T truth, and he wrote fiction. Picasso pioneered cubist art, multiple perspectives shown simultaneously, searching for a deeper truth. I certainly look up to them in artistic admiration. (Regardless of their personal issues.) We seem to live in a crazy time when it comes to the collision of agreed upon realities. Perhaps intention is the most important part.

One of my favorite Mountains, deconstructed and reconstructed in about 20 photos. I love playing with the interaction of shapes, the notan of light and dark. The time spent observing and the possibility of seeing something new. The closeness felt to a place I love. Only in retrospect, is there consideration of meaning, of audience perception, of the expectations within photography. Is this no longer real? Would that question exist in painting? What is real? Are memories only true when viewed in sequence, correctly delineated in the space of time? Can something imagined contain truth? Hemingway talked a lot about capital T truth, and he wrote fiction. Picasso pioneered cubist art, multiple perspectives shown simultaneously, searching for a deeper truth. I certainly look up to them in artistic admiration. (Regardless of their personal issues.) We seem to live in a crazy time when it comes to the collision of agreed upon realities. Perhaps intention is the most important part.

The Great Inland Sea. A favorite of mine from the @Hasselblad book project last spring.
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It’s a meta-scape of sorts. A landscape about the landscape, patterns repeated, mountains and waves, altered in scale or frozen in form.

The Great Inland Sea. A favorite of mine from the @Hasselblad book project last spring. . It’s a meta-scape of sorts. A landscape about the landscape, patterns repeated, mountains and waves, altered in scale or frozen in form.

Dragons tail. Walking in the woods, you find a small interesting branch. Following along, the branch winds and curves, it appears to be covered in scales of fascination. Your head is down, you focus intently, your excitement grows, the branch grows. You follow faster and faster. Silver spikes, what is this?! A dragon of course. Also, the creative process.

Dragons tail. Walking in the woods, you find a small interesting branch. Following along, the branch winds and curves, it appears to be covered in scales of fascination. Your head is down, you focus intently, your excitement grows, the branch grows. You follow faster and faster. Silver spikes, what is this?! A dragon of course. Also, the creative process.

Sometimes I’ll listen to an entire song, just to hear one note, but where would that note be without all the others.

Sometimes I’ll listen to an entire song, just to hear one note, but where would that note be without all the others.

In gentle moments of no thing, the quiet emptiness will reveal itself to be quite some thing, to anyone who happens not to be there.

In gentle moments of no thing, the quiet emptiness will reveal itself to be quite some thing, to anyone who happens not to be there.

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