Community service work is one element of my life that has grown larger as I've matured. I choose where to volunteer, and am more careful in where I give my energy. There are so many worthy groups, and I have so little time that is descretionary, I choose small tasks, small projects to avoid over commitment.

Some of the work that I've taken on aims to enable community video broadcasting, to give voices to folks who would otherwise be invisible. I've been working to bring this capacity to Marin, sometimes by individual action such as volunteering as a camera operator on a crew making a public access show about a local human treasure or a local issue. Other times it is supporting the Community Media Center of Marin, serving as a volunteer board chair, working with Marin Telecommunications Agency on Public Access issues, negotiating contracts and organizing the non-profit that now runs the local stations. Sometimes it's a solo project, something that I can do on my own initiative. Sometimes those projects become the seed for a project in another cycle.

Recently I took some photographs of a local event, the 2009 Planetary Dance at Santos Meadow, and posted a few on the web. I shared the images with some of the folks who participated, and a link went out to a group of folks. Out of the blue, I received an email from a person who I knew back in 1975 and hadn't seen for all these years. Nice complement on the photos, and a reminder of just how connected we are in this community. Our links are many times unknown until some serendipity releases a glimmer of light.

There were othe comments, and that was nice, a project "delivered", a promise kept.

When I made these photos, I knew that the group has some amazing people in it, some artists, some dancers, poets, drummers and musicians, singers and actors, writers, architects and crafts people, dabblers and masters, cooks and parents, children and grandparents, and many who are much more. It was a privilege to be able to take photos amongst folks who are comfortable with media, who embrace it and utilize it themselves, people who are comfortable enough with themselves ( for the most part) that a camera isn't a distraction from their focus on the performer or the audience. The performances were called "offerinigs" and indeed that was the spirit of the day.

Interesting to edit the photos, as I thought that I was taking a lot of pictures, but when I'm critical, there aren't that many good pictures. While shooting I'm working to get the best image every time, but I also know that with movement I must be both with the rhythm and anticipatory, and repeat often to ensure that I have made an image of the action at it's most expressive instant.

Still photos are by nature in tension with the fluidity that is the essence of dance, yet sometimes the still image captures something of the event that is evocative and true to the performance. This is what I seek when I make event photos.

The Nikon D300 is fast enough that I am regaining my sense of precisely how long it is between the time that I press the shutter release and the time that the image is recorded. This physical knowledge in my mindBody enables me to take thoughtful photographs rather than use the "hose" method of action photography. Even so, I need to make quite a few images to yield a few really outstanding images that convey what I envisioned, and what was going on with the subject.

Just a few years ago, digital camera's couldn't capture a good image fast enough and with a very predictable interval so for years I couldn't use the techniques that I'd developed shooting news and sports with my Nikon film cameras. You have to shoot thousands of images, working to make a good picture each time, before you have the proficiency to start to attend to another level of the art. It's a skill thing, enabled by hardware. It's a skill built by reviewing thoughtfully each image that I made, reflecting on what works, what I missed each time that I made an image.

It was fun this weekend to know that the ability to capture an image when I think/see that its the right moment is returning. I used two lenses, a 12-24mm zoom and the 18-200 VR lens. Some of my favorite images were made with the wide angle lens. I'm glad that I had both, there were even a few times when I wished that I had brought the 80-400mm VR lens along. The long lens is heavy, maybe 4 lbs, and I left it in the car. My mobility was very important.

Once back home, I transferred the images to a pc and used Adobe Lightroom to edit the days production. I selected a collection of about 112 images from over 425 that I made on Saturday. Each image was cropped, had it's histogram adjusted to ensure proper whites and blacks, then I adjusted the gamma curve on many of the images, adjusted saturation, applied sharpening. Next I dodged and burned some parts of images to deal with the excessive contrast outdoors.

Then I exported the non-destructively edited images to a web gallery using a Flash template. Next I wrote some minimal copy, and posted the 200mb+ ensemble to a web site. Sent out some links to folks after testing the web gallery to ensure that it "could work". This editing process took about 4 hours, at least.

It was important to complete the edit asap, to post the images before the glow of the event faded. This I did, and the process was very enjoyable.

It would have been even better to have collaborated with someone who could record and edit audio, as sound was an important element at the event. The stills are really abstract without sound, but they have a descriptive artistic power of their own.

Recently my 21+ year old cat friend Kiwi died, and while its hard for me to write, I want to share some of the lessons that came from the experiences at the end of her long life.

Kiwi had a change in her condition a few days before she passed, her circulatory system was failing, and even though her kidneys were ok, I noticed that she wasn't processing fluids properly. When I'd give her Ringers Lactate under the skin for hydration, it would pool in her legs instead of being absorbed in a few minutes. The vet said that her peripheral circulation was failing and he could hardly feel a pulse in her legs.

Sharon urged me to keep her at home unless she was really suffering. We considered "putting her down", and discussed it with the Vet, but she wasn't in pain and seemed to want to be with me. Even though it was hard for me, I took her home and decided to keep her comfortable.

Once she was home, she was wanting to be close to me, and I held her head in the palm of my hand, stroked her emaciated body, and comforted her. I took her outside and and put her on a bed that I'd brought on the table in the garden courtyard. She seemed to enjoy being in the sun, but after a while, it was too warm for her. I moved the table under the shade of the plum tree, and she was more comfortable.

It was time for her to get more fluids, so I hung the bag from a tree branch and inserted the needle under her skin of her back around the shoulders. I again held her head in the palm of my hand and stroked her flank as the life giving fluids flowed through the tubing into her body. She seemed weaker, but also enjoying this time in nature outside. After a while, it seemed as if she had enough, so I unplugged her and took her back inside.

She refused to eat, a change that signaled the beginning of her passing. She and I spent a lot of time together that Saturday, and I cried knowing that she wouldn't be with me for long. She was so weak, yet she responded to my touch. I was very glad that I brought her home, even though it was very difficult for me, it was also important to support this Kitty friend in her time of need.

The next morning, her breathing was labored, more or less like chen-stokes syndrome. I spent time with her, but had to go to the Community Media Center on my bike. Before I left I said good-by and told her that she could leave while I was on my errand. She wasn't responding to me, and her eyes seemed far away.

When I returned a couple hours later, she was gone.

Kiwi was such a loyal friend, and we had a great last few months together. Early this year she rallied, started getting up before me, going down the hall on her own to the kitchen to wait for me to get up and make coffee. She would hang out with our other two cats, Snowy and Carol. She'd bray for me when she wanted me to do something for her, like carry her back to her warm cat bed with the warm pad. She'd eat crunchies from Snowy's bowl even though she only had about three teeth left, pushing him aside to get a few bites. Carol snuggled with her most mornings, cleaning her head and sleeping with Kiwi on the warm pad.

I spent more time with her, took her outside more, and had her stay with me on the couch in the living room when Sharon and I settled in after dinner. Kiwi took quite a bit of maintenance, as I had to provide fresh towels ( she had some incontenance), give her fluids twice a day, and Lactulose stool softener. I gave her this care for over three years, every day. The cost wasn't insignificant, and she had to visit the vet a few times each year.

In some way, I felt joy at being able to provide the support that kept her going while she had the spirit and the will to be with me. She had been there as my cat friend through many difficult times, through the good times as well. All her life she was really good about comming when I called, and even though Alex and Alicia Star were my favorites, she would waddle along like the nerd kitty when we went walking along the railroad track.

Kiwi was there when my partner left way back in 1989, she was there during my difficult times in the early 1990's, and again when I lost my job in 1995, when my dear love Peggy died in 2001, and Kiwi stayed as my lap cat until her kidneys started failing in 2006. I thought it unlikely that giving her fluids would do more than make her passing easier, but she responded strongly to that early supportive therapy and made it though her crisis. Her willingness to endure the twice daily fluids under the skin with a needle made it possible to give her fluids without a struggle, and contributed to our success at supporting her health.

We had outstanding vet care, mostly from Dr. Bill Estheimer at East San Rafael Animal Hospital. Bill was willing to work with me with this old cat, and patiently taught me how to improve my techniques in giving fluids, injectons, etc. Dr. Estheimer and Dr. Michelle Rose helped Kiwi when she became blocked, and helped me to find a special diet that worked for a cat with megacolon disease.

Since I know that I did everything that I could for her, and that she appreciated her life and being part of the Skolnick-Bagnoli family, when she passed it was easier for me than when I've lost other cats. I had accepted that she would pass when she was ready for months, maybe even years. I was grateful for the time with her, but recognized that her time was at hand when she stopped eating and her circulatory system began to collapse.

Thanks Kiwi, you were a great friend and teacher!