Photo Shows are for Losers

It’s that time of year again.  My turn to come up empty at the Ojai Art Center Photo Show.  I’m beginning to feel like the Cubs.

Sweetie had her 70th birthday in May and we celebrated by visiting the jellyfish at the Monterey Bay Aquarium.  Pretty heady stuff.  The thought of submitting a prize winning photo rattled around in my head during the trip.  Couldn’t even concentrate on the otter feeding frenzy while I pondered what to do for this year’s show themed Eat.

Back home again, I thought what better way to showcase my ample talents, while at the same time celebrating Sweetie’s  birthday than to photograph her with her signature cookies.  A sure winner.  Who could resist that combination?  Luscious cookies, a beautiful woman, careful attention to composition, obeying the rule-of-thirds, leading the viewer to the principal point of interest, immaculate printing, and careful attention to framing would reveal the holy grail I had been seeking for years.  Recognition and reward lay ahead.  For sure.

So what happens?  Same old thing.  I arrive at the Sunday reception expecting praise and congratulations while humbly accepting a fat check.  My gaze is directed like a lazer beam at my photo hung in an enviable spot on the wall.  Where’s the blue ribbon?  Nada.  Not even an honorable mention.  Depression.  Devastation.  Defeat.

How could this be?  Three big money prizes and six honorable mentions.  Nearly the entire show and I’m left out in the cold.  That perennial fancy-pants Susan Magness gets first prize with her pears.  Just because it’s perfect, eye-catching, brilliant and unique shouldn’t have been enough to overshadow my cookies.  Tiny Myrna Cambianica earns second spot with a twisty-turny thing that focuses the viewer’s mind on the scarcity of food in the third world.  What a sneaky, thoughtful thing to do.  And finally, the ultimate insult.  Another guy named Fred, Fred Magness, wins the last money slot  with his infrared composition that draws the viewer right into the scene and refuses to let go.  The creep.

And so my friends, I wash my hands of the whole thing.  No next year.  No more disappointments.  No more heartaches.  I’m finished…unless the theme is depression.

Meanwhile, you can visit the show until July 7.  And I wish you would.  Go ahead.  Take it all in and then see if you don’t agree that I shoulda won.  I await your judgment.  But keep any negative thoughts to yourself.