The Blind Side of Clarity — 35mm | f/5.6 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/5 sec
You don’t need me to tell you life is an all out blur these days. An all out conflagration of the senses; body, mind and soul blasted by a raging inferno of the world’s lit fuse. Our defenses bested, our heat shields destroyed. Systems are critical and who will quench us now?
It is here and now we must look to ourselves and to our small pockets of control. Let’s do what we can to keep things neat and tidy, lest the traveling embers of wonton destruction set our own backyards ablaze. Things may look and feel hopeless, with authoritarianism, strife, conflict, and death on the move. We must not allow such malevolent actors strip away the clear view to what matters most in this world—each other, our children, our communities. Instead of a sniping some stranger with a quick hit feel good response of toxic emotion, give yourself a moment or three to respond with the soothing power of love and grace. It is our kindness and compassion that will save the world.
Second Time Round — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/13
OK, so more like the hundredth… or three. Either way, if you’ll afford me the license of the British English use of round in around’s stead, I can proceed. This blurry pan shot demonstrates how technique significantly changes the look of two near identical photographs.
I made this blue hour photograph within a minute or so of my last posted photo—Winter Turn. Despite color, light, and composition being near identical, panning left to right renders a whole new feel. The image is darker, more intense. Perhaps even a touch brooding. The single exposure made while moving the camera deepens the purple, giving it a more sanguine tinge. More of the Tyrian purple reserved for royals and tyrants. It also darkens much of the snow pack tucked away in the fore- and middle-ground. There’s just enough highlight to let you know the snow is still there.
To touch on Winter Turn one last time: It’s another example subjectivity and surprises. That photograph far exceeded my own expectations. People seem to be all about, even though for me it’s only an all right shot. Not bad by any stretch, but hardly remarkable, either. Of course that’s only my opinion, and it’s a good thing my opinion doesn’t count for everything, even if it leads me back a second time round.
Hello website, I am back. Back to autumn. Back to September 25, 2021. To the same Cedar Run Dock Road evening where I made another motion blurpan shot photograph, Peace Where We Can. In a trick of light, The Line is cast in the moody blue tones of the eponymous blue hour. Meanwhile Peace Where We Can smolders in the waning embers of sunset. Now you might be saying so what? Well so what is that I photographed The Line first. Depending on the direction you look the last light of day refracts different. More so it changes by the moment. These fluid transformations require the greatest focus of observation. Move your eyes across the whole ring of the horizon less you never see what colors behind you.
Let’s talk nuts and bolts. This is a stripped down, minimalist image. It’s monochrome color scheme and open space allows the mind to range free. Your mind wants to build a boat to paddle out over to the far horizon. A razor’s edge at the end of the world. Is it a barrier? A gateway? A threshold? Is it the last refuge or the first place of welcome? Or maybe it’s just a place where people eat french fries? Well, it’s sort of all of that. It’s Long Beach Island. The line at the edge of my world since 1993. A place I’ve long looked out upon but never quite understood. Somehow always feeling a touch too far out to sea. My very own Tol Eressëa.
Warning: Incoming middle aged Nintendo fanboy nerd alert post coming in hot. Metroid Dread launched a week ago today, and holy smokes I still can’t believe it. Mainline Metroid. In 2D. A new release. On a console. In the year of our Covid two thousand and twenty one?! Oh. My. God. I cannot.
I’ve been tearing through Planet ZDR each night ever since. Headphone cans fixed snug. Living room chair. Locked in. Side scrolling glory taking me from one power up to the next, with sinister bads set to destroy me at every turn. Metroid at its best is a masterclass in environmental storytelling. The visual design signaling desolation where the native flora and fauna make it clear you stand alone. Isolation and hostility are the only constants. The entirety of the world wants to see you dead, drawn and quartered, wholly unworthy of the vacuum of space. And damn is it so good, and so hard, and so good. Samus never controlled anywhere near this good. The developers at MercurySteam crushed it. The game is hard, yet fair, and over time Samus romps to such power and heights, a triumphant reward for all the tribulations and Game Over screens. Clack-clack, here comes an E.M.M.I. Did I mention this game is good?
So what in the hell does that have to do with this post, photograph, or website? I’m here for the pretty stuff not this geekspeak worth at least 12 noogies and 20 minutes in a locker. Well one of the moves legendary intergalactic bounty hunter Samus Aran acquires in her serial planet storming romps is the speed booster. Along with said speed booster comes the ultimate boon to Metroid speed runners the world over: Shinespark. Speed boost to shinespark sends Samus hurtling at meteoric speeds, turning her into a literal tunnel busting speed bullet. Glowing like a comet streaking across the sky all you see is a luminous blur of pure energy and awe. And that’s this photo. Samus streaking across the horizon left to right. A sunset shinespark blazing into night.
The space between solitude and loneliness is a chasm of untold depth and paradoxical closeness. Two simultaneous contrasts holding true together. An oxymoron somehow leaving us near and far, in the same space at the same time. Reach out with an outstretched arm from either side and would be fingers of welcome near on touch. Michelangelo knew what he was doing atop a small chapel ceiling of some renown.
Yet between this space sits a rift, vast and brooding. A jagged cleft of ineffable depth. It is unseeable, unknowable. It is perilous. Our own earthly black hole, it, too, leaving no possibility for escape. Like its cosmic counterpart, it’s a barrier which may as well be infinite. And yet to the observer much is open to interpretation with the observer filling in their own story. Left to imprint their bias onto the station of others. We think we see what is happening, and yet, we do not see. All because this proximal closeness between unbreakable loneliness and fulfilled solitude somehow coexist.
Peace Where We Can — 35mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/4 sec
Sitting here on a Thursday evening staring October in the face. Touching up some photographs. Typing up a blog post. Trying to relax.
At a MacBook Pro I make words, build phrases, and complete sentences. Backlit and soundtracked by the baseball game, moody blue lounge light painting the walls. Baseball game only ever means one thing in my world: Yanks vs. Whomever. Tonight’s Whomever being the young, powerful, and surging, Toronto Blue Jays. Locked in a late season struggle with a playoff berth on the line, this series finale has a season at stake. I can only hope the Bombers come out on top.
In my mind I think it feels nice to have a new photograph to share. I’ve favored a simpler process and minimalist composition of late. These motion blur style photographs in particular. Bringing movement into my presentation of the New Jersey coast gives me a different kind of voice. Softer, and less heavy-handed. A little less tyranny by the artist. I’m producing imagers distilled to more basic form, leaving the viewer with more space to imprint their own emotions, feelings, and memories onto their scene. This makes it simpler for everybody, and I like that.
Moments of respite have proven elusive, and we’d all do well to come together, embrace more humility, and find peace where we can.
The Call Back — 35mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/6 sec
For the first time in at least three years my urge to make more photographs—better photographs—is waxing. The call back to capture the beauty of our backyard grows louder with each passing day. My interest in this craft waned to its nadir this past spring, and I legit thought myself ready to hang ’em up. Hell, I thought giving up my gear to more appreciative hands may be the best way to move on. Instead I held on and secretly hoped for inspiration in some lesser explored corner in my mind.
Inspiration came, though not as altruistic as I would hope. Instead ego took the wheel; nothing like some wounded pride to get you back in the driver’s seat. Perhaps there is some ten year irony at work? Seeing it was something other than moral rectitude which first motivated my pursuit of this hobby a decade ago. Whatever the merits of the impetus the call back has me wanting more.
Considering the importance of growth and evolution I want to study further the execution of intentionally blurred photographs. Breaking down color and shape into more flowing forms. Using minimalist aspects to represent the glorious nature of our home turf. I have sprinkled motion blur shots like this into my landscape rotation over the years—now is the time to explore further this passion.
This corner of the internet has been quiet, eh? Rest assured all the noise has moved inside my head. Photographs have been hard to come by, and if I’m honest, the drive to make them has moved on. In short: this decade long hobby is down to fumes.
There’s little sense in making proclamations—declaring this experiment in creativity over. With luck a new spark will fire tomorrow. Yet I am willing to share my total uncertainty over how often I’ll foist the camera moving forward. I’m grateful to how much this unexpected hobby has given me these past 10 years. A near unbroken space of growth and calm. A cloistered enclave where my hamster wheel brain ceases its captured spin. Talk about a safe space.
That’s all gone now. What once restored life now saps strength. What once vented furious forces now yields to tectonic mountains of growing anxiety. There’s no more ensconced glacier of solitude to wear down the surging crags of my mind.
And still, may tomorrow bring with it the surprise of good fortune to turn everything around.
The Sea Moves — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/4 sec
Minimalism with intentional hand made motion blur. I love executing this kind of photograph. Combining a handheld approach with a smooth, confident motion panning from left to right into the sunset. It is much more involved than my typical tripod landscape. The latter leaving me with the sole task of pressing the shutter once I have framed my shot. Meanwhile this technique is visceral, taking me much closer to my own work. Involving me the way a baker kneads the bread—the hands are in there. Kneading it. Working it. Making it. Body, mind, and skill all coming together to produce something personal, something special. This process alone creates an intimacy with the work, and it shows through in the result. Here I am actually creating a thing with my hands. The sea moves right here in my palms.
