Queen of the Past

remembering Our Black Queens Part 1:  The Golden Age

As promised here it is part one of my current project. The premise, appreciating our queens. The concept also comes with self-appreciation, and remembering who we are.

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Real quick

Take a look at my emerging shop!

Called Black is Brave! (Click the photo to visit the shop)

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This was a very positive experience for me and it helped me to under stand my muse more. This is probably the hardest working queen around. What’s most impressive is to see a queen smile through it all.

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We found one of my favorite spots and decided to start shooting under the few light sources. It went much better than expected for a night shoot. This would be my first outdoor shoot with a muse at night in a very long time. I find that night shooting offers natural framing. Shooting at night adds negative space and high contrasting shapes. There is either a sense of romanticism or mystery when I shoot at night which fits perfectly with what I like to do.

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Technical

I didn’t have much trouble beyond reason with noise (the grain while shooting in low light). The light source we did have been strong. The background was far away to add to the effect of the light source that we was given.

I used a wide-angle lens. It wasn’t a prime lens but the low light performance fared very well. My camera isn’t the best on the market either; Nikon D5200. Aside from the amount of megapixel and no AF filter I think preparation really helps me work with a camera like this. I don’t need a $3,000 camera even though I do drool over it.

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A touch of  Poetry

Reality in Royalty

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While I judge the quality of queens and how we can divide and ration off the rubbish to the riff raft I’m reminded I’m the cause of the rough roads I was riding pretending I wasn’t driving. I watched my kingdom burn, because I felt like a Kingdom is what I earned. My Ego says I’m the main character the causation can’t be me, it’s a cancerous criminal creating chaos, but she blamed me. I didn’t know at the time never even seen a sign, but I buried our battles and bickering in my heart to better burden me later down the line. I confused learned hurt for wisdom, pushing propaganda of independence as if it was a choice.  Now at the top of this mountain, my false kingdom of one, I can lead others to find the right one. Hoping others grow, forgetting about my growth of self.

preemptive defensive quality assurance, testing of every woman I see magnifying any flaws to hide my intimidation.  How can I care for anyone when I am the constant killer of my own character causing one catastrophic event after another? I judge, like others in this world because I cannot play the game of thrones. YouTube videos of “what’s a good woman suppose to be,” when no woman wants to be held close to me.  Spoken like a proud prospect preparing to take the crown only to be crippled by coincidence or cruel fate, yet I confidently speak on how great I’d be if I was king; all the while knowing my last queen found her worth and left.

Not all queens are stoic, not all kings are just. However, hope is ideal to have is real. We preach on what should be, and how to weed out the bad but none of us got it figured out. Kings and Queens we all make mistakes, fall from glory, fold at high stakes. Some even wish to end it all, some actually fall. When ever the ideal is real the book seems to change its story and the movie changes its reel.  But that’s life… Change is real and without that nothing is actually ideal. We all must grow.

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