Familiar jaunts to familiar haunts. The road back to a place that shaped me. Long before photography was the marsh. Long after photography the marsh will be. Ever present, forever here unyielding. Soft sings the subtlety of change slow molding even the deepest firmament. Its work known only to the keenest eyes draped by long years put to the service in the knowing.
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Dutiful honey bee plying her trade. Drinking her nectar and loading her pollen basket, she works with intent. With energy and purpose she minds her craft. Even alone the hive is on the mind. Her community needs her; needs her singular focus to feed and to provide. To sustain the group. Bounding atop pistils by day, she works the land spending hours at the harvest. Undaunted she holds fast to her task. Mindfulness dams distraction. Even the focused lens of the observer matter little to our indefatigable worker bee. She need not pay us any mind—she strives for the hive.
As ever, thank you, John Lennon, for enriching our lives with joy. Thanks for your classic song connecting to this lyrically inspired photo. A working class hero is something to be(e).
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Near on five years later I have made a companion photograph to tango with I’d love to see you in that dress. I am not breaking any ground in stating flowers evoke a feminine grace. Here, as it was five years past, that grace manifests in the likeness of a lithe dancer transfixing us with her craft. Her pirouette moves and shifts the dress setting our hearts to flutter. With the calendar’s turn to spring I look forward to capturing more of nature’s dancers shining light upon our lives.
Of course a shout-out to the incomparable Elton John for the lyrically inspired title.
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I bought my home from my parents in October 2009. Built in 1993, my parents put in much work to cultivate a lovely yard through the years. Cue up yard work montage footage full of old clothes and dated hairstyle. And yes, I bought the house I grew up in. Under my ownership I have made great work undoing their great work. A once proud yard has fallen into disrepair under my watch. Where once there was lush grass there is the lingering remains of fescue. Where plants and flowers once thrived there is the unkempt overgrowth of perennials. All flanked by an uncontrolled spread of weeds. A groundskeeper I am not.
For whatever reason a shrub that had been for years on the brink, has returned to its former glory. A least in part. A Jane magnolia, photo above, has undergone something of a renaissance in my side yard. It has flowered up better than at any point in the last four years or so. With it injecting a most welcome infusion of purple to the yard. It’s a pleasing contrast to the yellow explosion of otherwise out of control forsythia marking the property’s edge. While the wheels have come off my lawn it’s nice to have some picturesque reminders of better days.
This lyrically inspired title comes from Jane’s Addiction, “Jane Says,” of course.
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Antoinetta’s Waterfront Restaurant. My old stomping grounds. Undoubtedly one of my favorite locations to photograph. It holds sway as an idyllic bayside vista. She’s a fine structure worked in a modern Victorian motif. This joy of design stands tall at the east end of Cedar Run Dock Road. A seaside beauty for sure. Oh, and the food is pretty good, too.
Over the years I have made several photographs of this near exact composition. You can take a look at my Antoinetta’s tag if you are so inclined. In recent years, however, my time spent photographing this spot has lessened. Increased year round hours has this fine eatery packed to the gills on the regular. It would be poor form to prowl around while paying customers sit down to a delicious meal, set to take in delectable sunset views. Besides, all those cars in my frame would prove problematic to good photo making.
Tonight I had my way. A closed restaurant and the whole area locked in ice. The latter being far more important to my opportunistic photographic sensibilities. I am enthralled with winter weather. Always have been. This is doubly true along my local bayside and marshes. The counterintuitive juxtaposition of ice where sun and warmth should be drives my fascination. The result? I cannot get enough of making this kind of photograph. I like it so much in fact, this shot marks my third take at this composition. Take a look at Winter has its ways and the Never quite the same. The former made in 2014 and the latter in 2015. The choice is yours as far your preference.
Until next time. Cheers and keep warm.
I did something rather unusual with this post. A last minute change to the photo title. I was all set with The Choice Is Yours but as I was typing out the post description A Pearl in Winter shot through my brain. It struck with a resonance. You know the kind where you whole body syncs to melodious vibrato. Or the feeling you get when you listen to Crosby, Still, Nash & Young. There’s a rhythm and tone that works down your whole spine setting your life in tune. And so the change—a rare change where I most always stick with my gut.
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In most any work you attend you’re bound to hit the plateau. Elongated sessions of flat expense flanked by monotony—or worse yet—nothingness. It’s the grind. Lacking the mania and output of the peak, yet devoid the pain and failure of the valley. It’s an uneventful period of low growth. It’s difficult to parse lessons when you’re going through the motions. Instead the best you can do is convince yourself to trust the process. Give yourself the stick with it pat of the back trusting this inglorious stretch, too, must end.
This is where I’m at with my photography. Going through the motions. It started when my iMac died in April. With my workflow disrupted I’ve been struggling for inspiration to get out and shoot. It also hasn’t helped that I’ve missed out on a few great sunsets too. These things happen, though, and I must continue shooting to find it. I’ve been here before and have worked through it each time.
Another caveat in my travail is stagnation. I’m at a point with my work where it all seems more of the same. A shallow veneer atop the same photo we’ve seen before. Salt marsh sunset; wash, rinse, repeat. At least I’ve been making more flower shots this year than in years past, and that’s been a welcome break. Yet I itch for more. Can I scratch for different? A break from the comfort zone feels in order. For some time now I’ve had the urge to dip my toes into portraiture. Ever eager to talk myself out of things, this projected change is ripe for excuse making. First there is the gear investment: lenses, lighting, and some screen type apparatus. Yet it’s the second hill that seems hardest to climb. I need subjects. Real life humans willing to sit and work with a guy who is cutting his teeth with something new. I’ve floated the idea past friends and none are keen to engage. And if they are they’re keeping things coy.
Anyway, thanks for listening to my midnight ramblings as work my thoughts aloud by way of blog post. And besides, now is not the time to get too down—it’s summer!
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The day broke clear. Northwest winds funneling crisp air across the coastal plain. One last battle in the fight between winter and spring. Unseen as it was. Sleeping late as usual the day made off with a quick start. Catch up after a long night redeeming Hyrule. I bounded about from laundry to bill pay, then started out to break my fast. Pinched between a Yankee game and a scheduled jog the clock ticking.
After a modest meal I folded some laundry and made for the park. Headphones in, feet moving in time. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot, left foot. Paced to the audible sounds of The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring. As Black Riders closed in on Weathertop I could feel the pain of Middle-Earth circling. With a slip of the ring and the pierce of a dagger, Angmar draws first blood. An already long journey has somehow only begun.
Chapter ends and my run is over. Breathless from worry yet rejuvenated in my own realm I took note of cirrus wisps dancing above. Shy and coy upon a blue stage. With a strange speed they moved, and I stood for a moment upon a crest to look again. And again. A cloud dance, I thought. How quaint. Yet it was here I knew sunset would prove worthy this night. For the fiery eye in the land where shadows lie may never rest nor ever die.
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You’ll find no nature here. Only aged remains of a disued shack left to dereliction. What happens when we’re gone? When all else fades but the ruins of a life gone by? When the fire has gone out and time comes along to reclaim fashioned resources back to dust? Undefeated is time. The second law of thermodynamics tells us so—entropy mandates decay of any and all things found in a closed system over time. This is why a famously felled Humpty Dumpty was never put back together again. Ironically human progress shields us from this fact. Civilization throughout the ages has achieved greater and greater levels of order, enterprise, and design when in reality we build our great monuments of progress to cast baseless doubt on the truth—incremental and inevitable disorder and decline. The next dark age waits just around the corner. Just as a great castle fortress was built high atop the hill only to be blast asunder from some new armament built only to destroy. Always forward is the arrow of time. Always locked in the battle of life, death, progress, and decay.
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This photograph is raw. Hardly the polished HDR landscape propped up by a firm tripod and bracketed exposures I usually produce. Here things are basic and flawed. As intense golden hour light poured over the Cedar Run Dock Road marsh on Sunday I was having a ball walking around popping off single frame hand shot exposures. It’s liberating to break away from the stationary tripod life sometimes. Pacing the roadside back and forth my eyes settled upon a pool of water wedged between the road’s shoulder and the marsh itself. A few inches of fresh rain left plenty of water throughout the wetlands, and the reflection on the still puddle commanded my attention. From there the process was pretty low-tech—squat low and place the camera about two inches above the water level, roughly a foot away from the edge of the marsh grass and squeeze the shutter. I wanted to capture a blown out sun and lens flare through the grass while capturing clouds in the water’s reflection. I am pleased with the quick execution of an otherwise spontaneous plan.
This lyrically inspired photo title goes to the excellent reggae band, Stick Figure. “Fire on the Horizon” is track one off their 2015 album, Set in Stone. Kudos to Ben Wurst for cluing me in to this band. Solid grooves, folks. Solid grooves.
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