The Winter Look — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Tonight burned. Fast and white hot she torched across the whole of the sky. Racing Apollo to his chariot home above the clouds. Phoebus, she calls in pastel tones heard in angelic beauty, our pantheon awaits. A show of pure passion, glowing heat, and lithe quickness. A holy ember blazing light white hot enough to stop time itself, and humble enough to give it all back. Restraint wrapped around the power, a subtle mastery masked only in its wisdom.
Tonight’s sunset above the salt marsh held the classic winter look. Brooding and intense cloud striations colored in deep, fiery pastels. The cold fans the flames. The furnace burns brighter, truer. The cold clean air of winter sets a crystalline stage producing light shows in nature’s peculiar brand of high definition. Buy this you will never at a big box store. There’s really nothing like it and no Amazon box to ship it in if there were. A unique species unto her own. She’s the afternoon sky fall cloaked in the rainbowed robes of winter. Breathless you watch her leave, eyes transfixed as though you’re only seeing her singular beauty for the first ever time.
Back writing at The Union Market and I have a problem. Sure I have loads of problems but for the purposes of this exercise I am focusing on one. My photography is wholly uninspired. For four years now I have set adrift atop the inevitable plateau of your talent’s going no where. No gains, no challenges, no growth. Only the muscle memory motions of habit fueled machinations left manufacturing the same caliber of work over and over and over again. It’s a cycle of mediocrity. This plain, man. It’s endless. I need off.
Feeling certain something has to give what are my options? Well let’s work the problem with a good old fashion bulleted list. We’ll even pretend it’s whiteboard style. To address my photographic dead end I could:
Quit—pack it in, drop this hobby and drift upon the breeze until something new falls in my lap; this is both decidedly passive and incredibly on brand.
Maintain status quo—stick to my modus operandi and don’t change a damn thing. Hover where I’m at but continue to find the most joy writing for the photos I make; this, too, is an extremely Greg thing to do.
Buy new gear—the capitalist equivalent to let’s have a child to fix our relationship; the short term gain to long term pain.
Identify a challenge—settle on a new photographic skill or technique; considering I only make landscapes and flower macros with the occasional bug thrown in I have mountains to climb.
Step out of my comfort zone—mix it up, meet new people; if you’re the smartest person in the room, find a new room. The surest path to improvement is to surround yourself with people better and more capable than you. Learn from others who’ve been in your shoes. Worn soles long shot, weary treads long tired from their time atop the plateau. While I was never a great musician by any stretch, I got pretty damn good playing guitar, bass, and even the damn banjo, when I was jamming on the regular with musical types way more gifted and trained than me. Their juice finds its way into your bones by osmosis.
Give a talk—combine some strengths! I am a shy ass person, few will say otherwise. Yet paradoxically I love to talk, especially in front of a live audience, and I’m good at it! Bringing together two skills into one thematic packable could be the juice I need right now. In the interest of full disclosure, I had a perfect opportunity to do this but totally flaked out. Great job, Greg. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.
Even though I am not as yet clear on what I will or will not do, I am glad I wrote this down. It helps to get your thoughts out of your mind and onto paper. It creates some separation. Some breathing room to think it through with the problem feeling a little less up close and personal. Change perspective to be objective. Even if a thing looks good it may not be serving us. The question is whether the discomfort is strong enough to precipitate change.
Plebs Will Out — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
After making this photograph Friday afternoon at the usual Cedar Run Dock Road spot I got to thinking. The exponential increase in not only photographs, but their quality this past decade has been extraordinary. On account of the technological powerhouses forever affixed to our palms and pockets billions of people the world over have ever improving picture making machines at the ready. The ubiquity of smartphones coupled with the increase in data and sensor power has turned every man, woman, and child into capable content creators. This has gifted us with growing volumes of splendid photographs the world over. A brand of photography that gets better and more beautiful with time. The improvement is not only at the hands of technology, either. Through the years as our phone cameras get better, it’s the near constant practice of making photographs everyday which has made us all better photographers. Anywhere you go you’ll find someone, often many someones, making a photo.
This democratization of technology has taken photography from a cloistered craft of the few into a pastime of the many. The equalization of this skill makes us all richer. Smartphones have become the great leveler, bringing high quality picture making devices to so many. This has allowed experimentation and practice by people in places who otherwise would have had no chance to learn the trade. As a photographer this excites me. It helps me to be a better photographer. It pushes us all. It’s a wonder to see regular people turning out inspiring still and videos day in and day out. The plebs will out, and I am here for it.
I am not what I think I am, and I am not what you think I am. I am what I think you think I am. —Charles Horton Cooley
I came upon this quote yesterday in Jay Shetty’s audiobook, Think Like A Monk, and damn that is incisive insight. Is it not true we are but projections of projections? A skewed facsimile as we endeavor to manifest ourselves as we perceive others see us. I make this statement without judgement, more as a recognition of observable truth. In all our efforts to make ourselves, we build an edifice as an assumed image of what we think we are to others. It’s a trick, an artifice, a distortion.
The problems here are manifold. One, it assumes we know what others think of us in fact. Two, it gives too much power to the opinions and assumptions of others. Three, it assumes others know us comprehensively enough to distill our full character. Four, and most important, it removes our own agency. It strips us from discovering ourselves in sacrifice to serving an unknowable image we think others hold of us.
None of this makes us bad people, lacking and wanting of autonomy and originality. No, it’s more positive than that. It’s a friendly canary in the coal mine singing out for us to recognize this distortion in better service of our true selves. Be not buried in the soot and morass of assumed thought. Do not be the looking glass projected onto another looking glass when together we can stand apart in front of our own mirrors.
Antisocial indefinite
I’ve deactivated my accounts on the Big Three social media platforms. I said so long to Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook. This is not a stance in self-righteousness per se, more a timeout from too much toxic information. I doubt you need me to tell you about the inundation of anxiety and filth that has seeped into every post and every comment thread. This coupled with the induced compulsion to keep up, look cool, and fit in, was too much. I needed to get away. It’s something I wanted to do for many years, and I am glad I finally pulled the trigger. Not knowing what is going on in the outside world has been glorious.
There are some drawbacks to my decision, of course. Chief among them will be some lost connections I’ve made over the past decade—connections I cherish dearly. Another casualty is the dissemination of my photography. Far fewer eyes will see my work now. This is a blow, yet I feel the tradeoff necessary. I have this website, little traveled as it is, as my go to spot for creative self expression. I plan to continue posting photographs and writings here. I appreciate each and every one of you who visits my site. It is meaningful support to me.
Round number alert
Speaking of this website, here marks post number 500! Crazy to think I’ve made 500 entries since launching this site upon the world back in January 2014. I never thought I would have gone this far. So here’s to 500 more. Thank you all who’ve journeyed with me along the way.
“I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread.”
I first encountered this line watching Peter Jackson’s masterful film adaption of The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring on the big screen in 2001. Having come to the books much later I learned this was a direct lift of Tolkien’s own words. Only a fool possessed with unconquerable ego would not leverage the master as much as possible. The line resonated with me from the jump. Here a world weary Bilbo Baggins, faced with all his wisdom augmented through unnatural age, laments the end to his mentor and friend Gandalf.
It touches on a tough reality—the falseness of appearances. In spite of his age, his 111th birthday fast approaching, Bilbo had not aged in over half a century. Of course the yet unknown ring of power proved at play. Still even in the face of apparent youth Bilbo’s inner self never stopped its natural aging process. Behind the mirror he knew himself wan and tired.
I was a young man when I first came to this line in the theater. A first semester college sophomore, only 19 years old. Still I already felt stretched thin. I was the inadequate amount of butter failing to cover all that mediocre manufactured bread. I got the reference. It landed. It hit home.
At first blush it’s easy to take this single moment in a grand story as a short line about the fears of aging. About the confrontation with our own mortality. Of course that is part of it, you would not be wrong. But there’s a deeper subtext speaking of fulfillment, or more precisely, the lack thereof. Bilbo, in spite of all of his adventures and all of his years remains unfilled. Both burdened and inspired by his magic ring he still wants more.
This, too, resonates with me. I’ve demonstrated some modicum of skill with photography, flat horizon sunset photography in particular. And yet it is not enough. It’s no longer getting it done for me. It all feels like a wash, rinse, repeat exercise in both futility and repetition. Like eating the same dry piece of toast each morning with the same familiar disdain of a routine unwanted. You do it because you feel the pull of obligation. You do it because you feel you have to do it. As if somehow the world won’t turn if you don’t. As though it matters to someone This is nonsense, of course, yet we all know this feeling in some corner of our mind. It’s little more than ego over inflating our importance. Though it’s a discomfort that may precipitate change.
Except this is not fiction, and I am without a magic ring. Though I still have some measure of control. We all have a choice to break habits and make new paths. Even to disappear. For example, after a decade I deactivated my Twitter account yesterday. I have 29 days to go back on this decision, but a big part of me wants to stick with it. I am hopeful I can make this step with Facebook and Instagram next. Maintaining a public persona is hard, and it injects added stress into an already stressful world. It leaves me feeling exposed and lacking, like somehow there’s even less butter in the dish with the same damn piece of toast waiting on the plate.
To Sparkle in Your Eyes — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Sunset last night did the thing. Mother Nature brought upon us a stunning evening light show. Set ablaze she caught fire to dance about the sky cloud dance floor. Moving and grooving. Glowing and flowing. A panoply of color set a course to smolder pure in a long deep burn. Locked in its gaze I paused to wonder how does such sparkling beauty come to be? Then I remember it is a true gift. And we are best to accept the truest of gifts as the unknowable wonders they are.
Shout out to Jonathan Carr of Weather NJ. Were it not for his text message, “No joke on this sunset,” some 15 minutes before sundown I would have with certainty remained on the couch. Disabused by what I can only describe as a decidedly mediocre New York Yankees ball club. I had been monitoring sky conditions all afternoon, and was aware of the potential. I simply was not up for it. I haven’t been up for much lately. Unwittingly Jon gave me the arm twist I needed. So all credit to him for this one. Without his interjection this photograph would not exist.
Is he posting this shot again? Yes. Think it’s time he finds, you know, a different angle at the very least? Also, yes.
I debated posting this photograph I made back on 25 August. It’s a an angle I have exploited on numerous occasions. And even though no two sunsets are the same, even I am growing worn thin by my lack of originality. (This coming from a notorious creature of habit.) Nevertheless I am rolling with it considering the rut I’m in and the insidious angst I feel. I am going through the motions and so my photos are going through the motions. Something about life imitates art.
Maybe it’s the comfort in familiarity that keeps me going back? Or maybe that’s little more than a double-edged sword. A safety net keeping me from breaking out and trying new things? Maybe it’s the slow churn of a global pandemic coupled with a deteriorating society fueling the angst? Maybe it’s the barrage of hot takes, baseless claims, and toxic passive aggression permeating social media post after social media post? Or maybe it’s the inevitable advance of fall? Or maybe it’s just me?
I’ve written before how this time of year weighs heavy on me—even in the best of times. Shortening days, the death of summer, the advance of the great browning. It all sets me on edge. I struggle to find comfort and solace knowing summer now sits an entire calendar year away. I’ve managed the past nine months or so with a one day at a time approach. Avoiding the pitfalls of thinking too much on an unknowable future. I must work to reclaim that mindset, cliché as it may be.
For anyone else out there struggling, worrying here we go again? Maybe it doesn’t have to be so hard this time? And better yet, maybe we’re far closer to something good than we could ever know? Keep hanging, y’all.
Sunshine in the Dark — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
I seek to channel the beauty found in sunset. I journey in search of the secret which sends the light of day toward darkness with such a flourish it stops the heart. Your breath escapes. Taken your gaze locks with the sky. She sees you seeing. A pastel wonder strewn across the deepening blue sky. It is with serene tenderness the gossamer glows. A smoldering ember eager to greet the night with sublime splendor. Never the same, always there. Together I seek to channel the beauty found in sunset.
