Framing the Sound

Category: Wintertime

  • The Big Unknown

    I never really thought about getting old until I got old.

    I suppose that’s how many of us think as we begin to enter what people call “old age.” But what is old age, anyway? I don’t know that there’s one correct answer, but I’d like to explore the question.

    First, let’s see what Merriam-Webster has to say.

    Old age (noun)

    • The fact of being old.
    • The time of life when a person is old.

    Old (adjective)

    • Having existed for a specified period of time.
    • Showing the characteristics of age.

    Age (noun)

    • One of the stages of life.
    • The period contemporary with a person’s lifetime or active life.

    I chose definitions that relate specifically to a person’s lifespan because, whether I like it or not, they now apply to me. I’ve completed 70 trips around the sun, and by most definitions, that means I’ve arrived at what many would call old age.

    So what does that really mean?

    There are probably hundreds—maybe thousands—of answers. For me, it means I’ve started thinking more about something I rarely gave much thought to when I was younger: my own mortality.

    Questions quietly find their way into my mind.

    What’s on the other side?

    Is there another side?

    If there is, is it a physical place?

    Will I still see, hear, feel, taste, and touch the way I do now?

    Eventually, every one of those questions leads to the same place—the biggest unknown of all.

    Is there life after death?

    And if there is… what does “being alive” mean then?

    I was raised in the Christian faith, where I was taught there is life after death. I learned that Heaven awaits those who have accepted God’s gift of salvation, while Hell awaits those who reject it. Those beliefs have been part of my life for as long as I can remember.

    But as I’ve grown older, I’ve found myself thinking less about having all the answers and more about appreciating the mystery itself.

    Maybe that’s part of growing old.

    Not having fewer questions…

    …but asking better ones.

    So I’ll leave you with the same question I’ve been asking myself lately:

    What do you think is on the other side?

  • Some days creativity moves in straight lines. Other days it skips like a record finding its groove

    Presently, I have Photoshop open, DaVinci Resolve, YouTube, Facebook, WhatsApp — and the turntable is spinning “Is” by My Morning Jacket.

    I’m not really multitasking. I’m multi-skipping from one task to another. And I’m in no hurry to complete any of these “fun” tasks.

    I started in Photoshop on an image I made last September in Badlands National Park. Oh — and I forgot to mention — I also have a Blake Rudis course open. I’m following along with his instruction on Photoshop Channels using my Badlands image as the test subject.

    Resting my eyes from editing, I turn my attention to the video I’m working on for YouTube. What? You didn’t know I had two YouTube channels? Indeed I do: Framing The Sound and Back To The Turntable: Groove & Guitar. The video in progress is for the latter.

    Blake’s course, Channels: Beyond Luminosity Masking, is hard to describe. I think I’ll simply call it magically abstract — and you can define that however best suits your imagination.

    I don’t let any of these tasks interrupt the joy of listening to good music. Sometimes I spin a record and sit contemplatively, listening closely, feeling the music — hearing the lead guitar solo and picturing myself playing it.

    When editing photos from the four National Parks we visited last September, I’m immediately transported back to the very spot where I pressed the shutter. Feeling the scene. Watching. Waiting for that bull elk to stand.

    It eventually did.

    Multi-tasking like this may not fit your workflow. Or maybe it does. Perhaps we all multi-skip — enjoying each task and in no real hurry to complete them.


    Maybe that’s the real art — not finishing the task, but living fully inside it while the record spins.

  • By Hand or By Computer?

    I need your opinion on if I should continue listing my records the old fashioned way as pictured below, or start documenting them on my computer? And if you have a suggestion for a record I should get, please let me know!

  • Return to…

    A time long ago, when we played records so loud they shook the tiny little room my brother and I shared.

    I’d guess the year was 1979 or ’80—somewhere around there. The exact year doesn’t really matter. What matters are the memories returning to me now as I continue to restock the record library I once had back then.

    My brother has most of the records I owned, and he also has the vintage stereo receiver and turntable that used to be mine. I sold it to him shortly after I got out of the Navy. Due to some financial difficulties I’d rather not mention, my brother offered to buy my stereo system to help me out. That meant more to me than he probably knows.

    It’s been over 40 years since I last spun an album. But thankfully, I’ve returned to vinyl.

    As I search for and rediscover classic rock albums from my past, I also stumble across bands I’d never heard before and discover new music along the way. I’ll mention just one here for now: Cigarettes After Sex. That alone is an intriguing name for a band. Click the link and buy one of their records.

    If you’ve been away from records as long as I have, I urge you to begin that journey back to the turntable.

    You won’t regret it. I promise.

    The Listening Corner

  • On Waiting, Warm Weather, and the Passing of Time

    I’ve heard it practically all my life that time passes faster as you get older. January is already history, and I could swear it was only January 1 yesterday.

    In my youth, I remember having to wait for a certain time, day, or month to arrive before this or that event. Back then, it felt like years before that day finally came. Waiting for something good to happen meant everything to me and my siblings. Anticipation had weight. It stretched time.

    I mentioned in my last blog post that this year marks my 70th trip around the sun. Reaching the downhill side of life’s mountain arrived far faster than I ever imagined it would.

    We’re planning another trip this year—one or two more National Parks. This time, we’ve decided to look closer to home. I’d head west again in a heartbeat, but my wife prefers less driving time, and that’s just fine with me.

    We’re waiting for the warm months to arrive and will choose our destination before then. But this waiting for warm weather feels like it’s taking forever—almost the way it did when I was a kid.

    And that? That’s a good thing.

    A sandstone butte just outside Badlands National Park.

  • 2026

    On May 12 of this year, I’ll have completed 70 trips around the sun.

    But it only seems like…?

    I don’t make New Year’s resolutions because I can’t keep them.

    I probably could if I took them seriously. But at my age, taking things seriously—like a New Year’s resolution—has gotten a lot harder to do, and I think I know why.

    As you age, your outlook on life changes. You begin to realize you’re not going to live forever, and you can’t take anything with you when you leave. Those two hard facts are the only things I take seriously.

    Seriously though…

    My family, friends, neighbors, acquaintances, and my photography—along with my recent return to vinyl records and tape listening—are things I place great value on. But I can’t take any of them with me either when I check out.

    When the credits play, remember that they were written by me.

  • Tis The Season

    I guess….

    I used to get excited when Christmastime came around. But after my kids grew up and got out on their own, Christmas seemed to lose its meaning. Now don’t go thinking that I’ve forgotten what Christmas is really about, I haven’t. I know that it’s the day Christians celebrate the birth of Jesus. And being a Christian, I understand the significance of that.

    The joy I used to feel at Christmas when my kids were little has now been replaced by a feeling of “let’s get this over with.” Call me Scrooge if you want, I’ll not get angry because I can still smile through it all. And I most certainly will try hard not to be cynical (Lord knows I’ve been down that road before!).

    I’m pretty sure that hanging around for 69 years has probably caused some of my changing attitude towards Christmas. And as far as I know, there is no cure for aging.

    Tis the season? Bah….humbug! And please don’t be offended, I’ll wake up Christmas morning feeling a lot better, I promise!

  • The Shape of Vision

    How Many Art Forms Are There?

    Probably too many to count. Painting comes immediately to mind as one of the most celebrated art forms. In fact, when I think of an artist, I picture painters like Da Vinci, Degas, Dalí, and van Gogh, among others. I never truly considered photography an art form—at least not until recently.

    I joined f.64 Elite one year ago this past June, and doing so has completely changed how I make photographs. It’s also been a journey toward finding my inner artist—both in photography and in music.

    I still struggle to define exactly what my vision is when I create a photo or compose a song. Most of the time, I don’t fully recognize my artistic vision until days, weeks, or even years after the work is made.

    It’s during the editing process that the muse speaks—directing and guiding my eyes to see, and bending my ears to listen—for the artistic vision I know is hidden somewhere within my work.

    Once I find it, I shape it into what I want you to see and hear: a subtle tone shift while playing Dm on my acoustic guitar, or a shift in hues between orange and brown in an image from Badlands National Park.

    When all’s said and done, the viewer or listener may shape their own vision when gazing at my photo or hearing my composition—and that’s as it should be. Because one artistic vision can have many interpretations, but dare I say… only one creator?

  • Between Light and Sound

    Photography and music are the two most important pursuits in my life—though calling them “hobbies” doesn’t quite do them justice. They both demand focus, creativity, and time. And while I’d love to do them simultaneously, that’s not exactly possible (though it would be pretty great if it were). Finding enough time for each is always a challenge.

    It’s been a little over a month since returning home from our Epic Journey West, and I still haven’t been out with my camera. My Martin D-28 has stayed in its case, untouched. Most of my time has gone into culling (and editing a few) photos from the four National Parks we visited. I took more than 1,700 images—many duplicates (I shot nearly 100 frames of the iconic Moulton Barn in Jackson Hole), a few out of focus, and some that just didn’t work.

    This winter, I’m hoping to finally finish the culling process and carve out some time to pick up my guitar again—maybe even do a little recording with my two sons.

    I’ve also been dedicating time to take part in Blake Rudis’s Vision Session video series. My session is the final one in a set of six and will be available for f.64 Elite members to view in December. The Vision Session series will continue into 2026, featuring more members and their creative journeys.

    I plan to share a detailed post soon about The Vision Sessions and why they matter. Consider subscribing so you won’t miss it!

    View from inside the Chapel of the Transfiguration, Teton County, Wyoming

  • Light, Sound, and the Muse

    I’m trying to be a lot more precise with how I edit my photos. Why? Because I’m a visionary!

    Well, actually, I’m just an artist—photographer and musician—creating photos and music with a vision in mind: how I want my picture to look or how I want my original song to sound.

    Since joining f.64Elite back in June of 2023 and taking one of the member courses, Discovering Your Vision, I’ve become much more aware of how a viewer or listener might perceive my art.

    One important point needs to be understood when people look at or listen to my work: the vision I had when I created it might be very different from theirs. And that’s perfectly fine.

    But I don’t change my original vision—unless…

    Unless the muse demands it.

    Moulton Barn, Grand Tetons—a melody of wood, mountain, and cloud.