When I am among Trees

I know I want to create a photo book of some of the artistic images of trees that I've done this past year. 

I've gathered most of the shots and artistic renderings I've made by different methods and have been getting ready to put them together.

I had no coherent plan in mind, but like most things. Generally the mood of creativity has to smack me upside the head [mentally, that is]. 

I was still conflicted. Is it appropriate to put nice plain photos and mix in different methods of editing? I am stymied.

I was also stuck because I had nothing I wanted to put on the cover of the book.

I'd tried a few different shots and artistic designs with no luck.

I wasn't even thinking about the project when I took a photo of one of my favorite trees and ran it through Wombo Art AI and then Deep Dream AI. I was simply curious to see what would happen if I used AI to mix up two forest shots.

I merged the photos in ON1 [Photoshop is too pricey for me] and messed around.

Little did I know that this was exactly what I'd been searching for.

It looks like some sort of painting that I could imagine walking through.

I even tested it out with a title.

I was inspired by the piece of artwork enough to think about working on the project again.

When I am Among Trees is a poem by my favorite poet, Mary Oliver.

She says what I feel in one small beautiful poem.

I think now that I have this in mind, I can work on the rest of the book.
My executive decision is this. I'll mix and match photos with some of my art. After all, it isn't a 'book' per se that is going out on the NY Best Seller list. 
It will be a self published book for me to pick up and browse through and enjoy what I'd done.

We will see how the project progresses.

Some photos will be artsy and some not so artsy.
I just wanted to collect them in one place to enjoy them.

After all, trees are constantly on my mind.

When I Am Among the Trees

When I am among the trees,

especially the willows and the honey locust,

equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,

they give off such hints of gladness.

I would almost say that they save me, and daily.

I am so distant from the hope of myself,

in which I have goodness, and discernment,

and never hurry through the world

but walk slowly, and bow often.

Around me the trees stir in their leaves

and call out, “Stay awhile.”

The light flows from their branches.

And they call again, “It’s simple,” they say,

“and you too have come

into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled with light, and to shine.” Mary Oliver