Painterly Photography

It was a beautiful afternoon.

The streets were clear. People moved slowly, drifting between shop windows and café tables, pausing at flowers and conversation. The sky was bright and blue—quiet in the way ordinary days often are.

But then there was a sound.

At first, it was distant. Easy to ignore.

Then it grew—low and steady, rolling closer with a force that didn’t belong.

The water came without warning.

Rounding the columns, pushing into the street, breaking the rhythm of the day in a single breath.

Most didn’t see it. Not yet.

But one man did.

He turned—his heart catching before his voice did.

He tried to run, wanting to reach them before the moment was lost, before all was lost… but he couldn’t move.

And in that moment,

he knew what he had to do.

Last post did not show the image...I'll try again later.

I had overexposed this elk and thought it was a throwaway, then decided to pull out the color that was there and created a sketch-like image. I am testing that out with other photos. What do you think?

Not completely painterly, but I've always liked this texture on this photo. The title literally tells what happened to this house -- the farm's water rights were sold to a city decades ago, and without the ability to irrigate, the farm died within just a few years. The contrasting greenbelt in the background is a neighboring ranch that still has its water rights intact. Pretty much a commentary on short-term vs long-term planning, unanticipated droughts, and how quickly fortunes can be reversed.