Living with a constant migraine (7 damned years now) means that I don't have the ability to linger, read, write, or create very much.  Sometimes all I can do is pull out an older work of art and digitize it.  However, I still think! 

I try to put a few words under an image to show why I took a photo, my state of mind at the time, what inspired an illustration, or if something came from within.  For the photographs, I don't give technical camera details because that is like discussing whether art created on the Mac is technically superior to art created on the PC, or if oils are superior to watercolors!  It's the eye that counts.  I own a Nikon F2 (wowie-zowie finger-in-air), but the digital cameras make sharing online easier.  Even if I scanned all those old slides, the choice of camera and lens would be inconsequential compared to the choice of subject and lighting.  Besides, after I take an image into Photoshop for salvage, perhaps the only thing we can say is, "it used to be a photo!"

Because I still think, I'm still capable of learning.  Yes, I enjoy the compliments and friendly comments.  They are few because I don't do the reciprocal clique-thing.  Being unexpected makes them better... like selling something on cafepress to a stranger who likes our work enough to buy it.  The best comments, though, are helpful critiques or suggestions or leads to other artists or something that inspires an idea or opens the eye to possibilities. 

The only way we'll learn is if we admit that nothing we create is perfect.  Sometimes it is close, but what I see, what the camera sees, and what the viewer sees are not the same image at all.  Two people standing side-by-side can not see the same rainbow unless they are sharing the eyeball.  The viewer looking at a painting, CGI rendering, or photo of a rainbow is most certainly not going to see what the creator saw inside his or her mind's eye.  The most we can do is appreciate what each other sees and shares... and perhaps leave a comment.

And, yes, if I do look at someone's gallery, I'll look at the older work, too.

Carolly