January 18, 2011: Make a photograph with a triangular composition.
January 3, 2011: Make a photograph with a symbol or icon in it today.
January 14, 2011: Get a shot of something in motion today. Freeze or blur it.
January 11, 2011: Make a photograph today that features or uses liquid as a subject.
January 15, 2011: Make a photograph of two complimentary objects arranged to show their relationship to each other.
See what I mean? You would never have thought that any of the items in those pictures was remarkable, but the picture helps you see their beauty.
While I'm on the subject of posting other people's stuff, I'm also going to reproduce the words of the late Israeli poet Yehuda Amichai, whom I think could possibly be called the patron saint of drawing the remarkable out of the unremarkable. This is from his 2000 book Open Closed Open, translated by Chana Bloch and Chana Kronfeld:
The precision of pain and the blurriness of joy. I'm thinking
how precise people are when they describe their pain in a doctor's office.
Even those who haven't learned to read and write are precise:
'This one's a throbbing pain, that one's a wrenching pain,
this one gnaws, that one burns, this is a sharp pain
and that - a dull one. Right here. Precisely here,
yes, yes.' Joy blurs everything. I've heard people say
after nights of love and feasting, 'It was great,
I was in seventh heaven.' Even the spaceman who floated
in outer space, tethered to a spaceship, could say only, 'Great,
wonderful, I have no words.'
The blurriness of joy and the precision of pain -
I want to describe, with a sharp pain's precision, happiness
and blurry joy. I want to speak among the pains.