Give Art

Like Brooms of Steel
The Snow and Wind
Had swept the Winter Street ...

I love that imagery of Winter by Emily Dickenson. Those words are true of the last few days here in Northern Michigan. After an exceptionally mild November, we have rushed headlong into winter. I found the brooms of steel at work in the parking lot of the local state park. What an eclectic bas-relief created by the wind scouring layers of sand, snow, and gravel, with the addition of some formal structure via human intervention. Little did they know, those folks in that last vehicle of the season — the last vehicle before the gates were closed — that they were creating art. But I think that creating art happens all the time by people who are unaware that they are doing so. It's art when you give someone a hug. It's art when you bake some cookies for a friend, and it's art when let someone with fewer items go ahead of you in line at the grocery. Give art this Christmas season.

Not Where I Expected

When I roam the shoreline of Lake Michigan I find all sorts of "stuff" that washes up. Much of it is trash and it really is depressing. I suppose that some of the objects are inadvertent — a plastic sandwich bag that blew out of a child's hands while the family ate lunch on the beach, but other objects are the result of a person's total disregard for God's house. God's house — that's how I view the natural world around me. It must take every bit of restraint that God can muster when someone throws their big gulp cup in the lake. Don't you think God would just like to unleash his/her power to pick up the offender and permanently lock them in a dumpster with moldy garbage? Then again, I better watch out for my judgmental attitude. The Holy One has plenty of reasons to lock me up.

Sorry, I don't know how I got on this topic — a bit of a downer. I guess I was imagining walking along the beach and how often I'm disappointed in what I find, but the other day I was pleasantly surprised. I've seen Pitcher Plant a few times in swampy areas in the woods, but last weekend I came across it about 20 feet from Lake Michigan — not where I'd expect it to be. And seeing it was the middle of November, after many frosty mornings, and exposed like it was on the open beach, I would expect it to be shriveling up, but it really seemed to be thriving. Maybe the juice in the pitcher is like antifreeze. It was a large group that was taking on all the colors of autumn. I love the curves of this plant. And what a marvelous bit of engineering — how it traps insects for food.

I like finding things where I'd least expect them to be — and not just there but thriving. Kind of gives me hope — because often I'm not where I expect to be — and maybe I can not just be there — just exist, but thrive!

Time

Seems like the last couple weeks have been crazy busy. When I reviewed the images I was putting together from my Porkies AIR I decided that the old web site that I had wasn't going to cut it anymore. So any spare time I had I worked on sorting through images of the last few years and selected the best to include in a new web site. What a huge job! Because I would rather be out there taking pics instead of creating web pages I decided to move my site to a "pre-packaged" web service that lets you just plug your photos into their web site templates. No, I don't like the lack of flexibility in the site's design, but it's just one of those compromises in life.
So if you were waiting for more porkies pics — thanks for your patience. At left is an underwater pic (Union River) of a poplar leaf that was going with the flow — not worried about time.
As Kermit the Frog once said, "Time is fun when your having flies." So I won't sit here and keep on bemoaning my lack of time — I'll just keep it fun by having flies. Do you think making and eating a shoofly pie counts as "having flies?"
Crumb Crust:
2 deep dish pie shells, unbaked
2 1/2 cups flour
1 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup softened butter
1 teaspoon cream of tartar
1 pinch of salt
Filling:
2 cups hot water
1 cup mild molasses
1 cup brown sugar
1 beaten egg
1 tablespoon flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
Directions:
1. Combine all crumb ingredients and mix until ataining even consistency.
2. To make the filling take a different bowl, combine the hot water, molasses and brown sugar. Stir until sugar is dissolved. Add the egg, flour and baking soda.
3. Pour 1/2" filling into a pie shell and cover with crumbs. Continue to alternate between filling and crumbs until pie shell is full.
4. Bake in a preheated oven at 350F for 45-60 minutes until golden-brown. Insert a toothpick and when it comes out clean, remove from oven.

The First of Many

Gateway to the Hemlocks

I'm sifting through thousands of images I collected during my Artist-in-Residence at the Porcupine Mountains Wilderness State Park. I chose this one as the first of many that I'll probably post here over the next few weeks. One of the most noteable features of "the Porkies" are the stands of virgin Hemlock. But how do you capture a forest? The lighting is a problem because its always very spotty/contrasty. The subjects are these tall objects that are very difficult to place in one image. And often you can't see the forest for the trees -- as in it's hard to find a spot where you can get a perspective of the forest without having to shoot through other tree trunks or branches.
Well here is an attempt. I took an impressionist bent because the lighting reminded me of a Monet painting and I felt that the the textures of the bark, forest canopy, and forest floor would be enhanced by this style. I hope you enjoy this first of many.

Weather the Weather

I've been on the road for the last three weeks. First, I went to the Porcupine Mountains Wilderness State Park as Artist in Residence and with a quick turn around headed to Sleeping Bear Dunes to serve as a workshop presenter and field trip leader for a NANPA (North American Nature Photographers Association) event. At both locations I had to contend with some pretty "rough" weather. Wind, cold, and rain seemed to be a forecast staple. I'll admit that it wasn't always easy to get out of bed at 6 am to go collect images, but I reassured myself that no matter what the weather I would get good shots.
Necessity is the mother of invention — right? And likewise, a challenge is the mother of creativity. The weather forced me to think differently about what I was shooting — a good thing. And the Porcupines had been very dry most of the summer so the forests and critters needed the rain — a good thing. Well, I better stop there or I'll sound like a positive think guru. Getting real — the weather was tough to endure at times, and I did ask why me, why now? But it was part of a plan and I've learned to be humble and accept that plan, whether I understand it or not.

Showers of blessings

Bob

Review

Soon I'll be heading for another Artist-in-Residence gig. Before leaving I needed to make some space on my hard drive for the flood of new images that will be coming in. As I reviewed my huge inventory of photos, eliminating a couple here and a couple there, I found images that somehow got lost in the shuffle or I found images that were mediocre and with a little work became something worth sharing — so I'm sharing this one. It was taken three years ago when I was on my way to visit my daughter who was going to school at NMU in Marquette.
Every once-in-a-while it is good to review things. It holds true for my artwork. It holds true for my life. When I look back I see some tough times but also hidden gems — things that I overlooked at the time — good things that came out of being refined by the tough times. When I review I realize that I am blessed — more than I deserve.
I always head to these resident artist opportunities with a little anxiety. What if the creative juices just aren't flowing? What if my equipment fails? Lots of things could happen but history shows that there will be blessings — maybe hidden during the experience, but revealed on review. Just relax Bob.

The Problem of Beauty

Why is there beauty in the world? There are many days that I feel that I don't deserve it — to be blessed by it, but there it is.
I was walking along the beach thinking that my excursion was going to be a wash-out. I didn't particularly feel creative or inspired. I was trying to think positive — telling myself that at least I was getting some exercise. It wasn't the right time of day — mid-day — to get those nice shadows and warm colors. There were too many people enjoying the beach that day — good for them but they only interrupted my concentration. I didn't even pull out my camera until 20 minutes into my walk.
I waded into a puddle formed where sand had blocked a stream from making a quick entrance into the bay. I had been at this location many times and in my cynicism I was thinking that I had pretty much explored the place from every angle possible, and that anything I created that day would just be a repeat of something I had done before. I stood on the edge of the pond looking at some broken beach toys that were half buried in the sand. I slowly turned around and saw the image that accompanies this blog entry.
I noticed that stirring the water with feet caused beautiful ripples on the pond. Who had left their lounge chairs on the beach? Why had all this dark sediment settled on the bottom of the pond creating a reflective pool? Why was this stretch of beach vacant when every other inch of sand seemed occupied?
Just accept the beauty Bob! Enjoy the moment. You are blessed.

Uncovered

I came across these stumps and miscellaneous tree parts on the dunes the other day. My guess is that they had been buried in the sands for decades if not longer and recent winds had uncovered them. They really are wonderful sculptures. I feel somewhat disappointed in my ability to capture their beauty. I'm sure I'll get back there to try again. It's like I feel obligated to tell their story. I'm not accustomed to breathing life into inanimate objects but what were they thinking when they just sat there in the dark for years — just inches above them children ran across the sands to play in the lake — they missed glorious sunrises and sunsets day after day. Sorry if I'm getting weird here, but my mind attaches stories/histories to many things.
I guess I feel grateful that I can move (although somewhat slower with age) and am not living in fear of the sands burying me for years. I do have days when I feel buried though. I have a wonderful family that's good at keeping me uncovered and out in the sun.
The image I include with this note I titled "Compass." There are obvious design reasons for its title, but also a tribute to my friends and family who are good a giving me a sense of direction — mainly up, above the sands and uncovered.

Bathed in Blessing

Last week I did a little scouting on South Manitou Island for a photography field trip that I'm leading in October. I didn't plan my trip based on any celestial calculations. The moon was just there — and so was Jupiter. I'm not sure what time it was when I got up — probably 1:00 am or so. I just sat on the log bench in front of my tent and watched the sky and the shimmering water of the Manitou passage. I finally took my camera out and took a few shots just because that's what I do, but somehow my heart wasn't in it. I felt bathed in blessing and process of crafting an image seemed to be irreverent. Some would say that this moment was just coincidence. I believe otherwise.

The cool blue moon provided just enough light to give everything around me a hint of their daylight colors. The waves on the stony shore — no bigger than they were this afternoon — had a new voice that seemed amplified tenfold within the context of the muted landscape.

I was inspired to create what some might call a "minimalist" piece. Minimal in visual elements maybe but when I see it I hear clearly the brassy swash of waves that sung me to sleep on South Manitou.

I apologize that you can't see this image any larger on this blog because the weaving of fine lines of light get lost in this low rez version. This is an image I'd like to fill a wall with.

Blessings bathed on you!

A view from my campsite

Two Views of the Bay — Variety

When I was in grade school my art teacher introduced me to burlap, yarn, and stitching. (Please keep it a secret because it's not considered the most manly of things for an adolescent boy to do). I liked it so much that after the class project was done I begged my mom to go to the local fabric store and buy me a big piece of green burlap and a skein of multicolored yarn. And there I'd be, sitting in my bedroom, pushing a big needle over and under the coarse burlap. I would dash across the burlap with the "running" stitch, and then create a wavy line with the "chain" stitch and then a row of "French knots." I'd eventually lay the needle down and walked over to my friend's house so that we could build a fort in his garage and play army. You can tell your friends about that part of my life .

After the long and lonely stitch lines that defined the length of the piece, I concentrated my efforts on one side of the bath towel sized burlap. The design morphed as it grew left to right. I didn't take the time to create a master plan. I just started stitching. My skill level increased, my concept changed, I experimented with new stitches and new yarns, and when I was in a good mood I created more complex motifs, and when tired or grumpy I would keep the technique simple, not wanting to tempt frustration. For some reason I worked around my intitial stitches that ran the length of the burlap, and in some cases I drew attention to them by building symmetries either side of the stitching.

Little did I know that I was creating a design that would reflect my life. I love variety — morphing motifs. That's one reason I think I head to the beach so often. Wind and water mold the soft sands into new visions by the hour. The waves wash up new subjects overnight. But there are always some threads that pull everything together. Even though I don't like to admit it, I need to be pulled together. Thanks for keeping me together MLD.

Delicate and Strong

What do you do when it rains? Take photos — what else? It's a great time to go to the beach because you don't get trampled by families carrying coolers, bags of float toys, and beach chairs — and did I mention, getting skewered by beach umbrellas?
The light is nice and soft so it's a great time to look for soft subjects. In the back dunes there are little hollows and in the little hollows lie delicate flowers called Harebells — sounds like the beginning of a fairytale doesn't it? The blossoms, although modest in size, seem too large to be held up by their whispy stems. The blossoms shake their heads at the slightest breeze. A pale blue color fits with their simple elegant curves. But looks are deceiving. If you go back to one of my first entries you'll see a photo of a Harebell that I took in November (November 23, 2008) — after a light snow had fallen. Next time you're at the beach take a walk in dunes behind the crowds of sunbathers and look for the delicate and strong Harebell

Tadpoles

Seems like a pretty precarious existence, living in this shallow sandy pond on the edge of a lake whose waves could easily wash away their home in minutes, but there they are, zipping for cover as my shadow hovers over them. You really can't see them in a photo because they're too small and their olive drab bodies blend in well with the pond floor.

I hope they don't mind that I took a photo of their place on the beach. I wish I had a place on the beach.

In a Ditch

Q: Where can you find some of Michigan's most beautiful wildflowers?
A: In a ditch.
In order to position myself to capture the image I had to place my feet, accompanied by my favorite sandals, in stagnant, slime capped, water. The mosquitoes were in my ears. Just four feet from my camera bag, cars, motorcycles, and trucks kicked up stones. My imagination played a movie of a startled bicyclist losing control and falling on top of me. All in a day's shoot.

I would guess that on a clear summer's day couple hundred vehicles drive along this stretch of road, and being a favorite bike route of the local folks, an equal number of cyclists pass by. How many ever stop to appreciate the incredible beauty that lives here? Purple Iris, Lady's Slippers, Marsh Marigolds, Forget-me-nots, Damsel Flies, Leopard Frogs, and Salamanders, are just a few who inhabit this ditch. We will travel thousands of miles to see canyons and mountains, but won't stop the car and take a couple steps to see an equally grand landscape. Yes, I know, it's not "grand" in size, but if you scale down your perspective, it's equally majestic.

A ditch is seldom referred to in positive terms. A ditch is the unhappy conclusion to a story of traveling on slippery roads, and digging ditches is considered one of the most menial of tasks. No one particularly likes being in a ditch and I hope and pray that you don't find yourself in one of life's ditches. But I have found that when I am "in a ditch," I often see, appreciate, and experience the grace and glory of God in new and exciting ways. Example: I know I can count on the love and support of my brothers and sisters in Christ, especially my church community, when I am in need. Yes, there is beauty in the ditch.

Between Glory and Rust

I'm a well traveled person in the last month. I went to France and visited the King's palace at Versailles and I've been to my back yard and looked at the junk that the former owners of my property left. Funny thing is, whether junk or palace, they each have their own beauty. And both former owners have departed this earth and can no longer appreciate what has been left behind. Yep, you really can't take it with you.

I think it's good to be reminded on occasion about what's really important. Whether we leave behind a glorious palace or a pile of rusty metal what's really important was summed up by a prophet in the middle east a couple centuries ago. He said our lives should be about being just -- treating people fairly and honestly, being merciful -- having compassion and sharing what we have, and walking humbly with our God -- knowing that we are just a small speck in the universe yet extremely important to the Creator of the universe. I'm important to THE creator — how cool is that?!

Yes, I enjoy taking pretty pictures, and I hope I'm honoring my Creator by using the gifts He's given me. And I hope you receive a blessing in seeing them. That's the simple reason for why I post my photos here.
Blessings,
Bob

The First Warm Day

We all wait for it. A 70 degree day in April. Well, if you live north of Latitude 45° you wait for it — anxiously. And the northern hardwoods waste no time waking up. There are many plants that have a small window of opportunity. Before the mighty maples, beech, ash, and oak block the sun with their foliage the plants of the forest floor have to mature, bloom, and pollinate. Just a little pressure!

I love to just lay on the warm matte of old leaves and get the bug's eye view of the baby trout lilies, spring beauties, trilliums, and dutchman's breeches. Of course my wonderful wife always laughs when I walk in the door after one of my lazy afternoons amongst my green friends because along with the more notable plants a very pungent plant called the wild leek thrives and it imparts a wonderful scent on my bluejeans and sweatshirt. Just nature's version of Old Spice, I say. I real turn-on, right?

Enough of the wild woods talk. I'm working out there. And I think I have some good images to show for it. And the next time you're out for your Spring walk-in-the-woods. Don't be afraid to stop and take a rest in the warm matte of leaves.

Sleeping Sleeping Bear

I was hoping to see the sunrise and only feel a breath of wind, but the day was otherwise. It may seem contradictory but the subtlety of a grey day has its own drama. I rounded the corner of Sleeping Bear Point where the bluff guarded a stretch of beach and there was a dramatic calming of the rolling waves. The colors of the bay that were broken by cresting waves just a dozen yards behind me, now lie in large sheets. Water and wind seemed to find a balance, cancelling each others voices on the shoreline. It was indeed a sanctuary. It was if the the bear was dozing.

Looking Behind You

As many of you know or may have gathered from my blog, I spend a lot of time walking the shores of Lake Michigan. I especially like the shoreline around this time of year because the forces of nature are hard at work. Cycles of freezes and thaws push the sand and ice into fractured landscapes. Jagged ice crystals grow and then morph into smooth organic sculptures when the sun shines through them. So I was at the beach the other day, looking at that interesting edge where ice meets sand, when the shadows began to fade. A wispy cloud was to blame. I looked up to observe how fast the clouds were moving, therefore gauge how long before my image defining shadow would return, but the cloud itself caught my attention. I had to do a 180 to follow the line of the cloud and see it disappear behind the dunes. My image was there — behind me. I should have known. When will I learn? I can't tell you how many times I've been intent on capturing an image at my toes when the real image was following me. Creativity is like that — always contradicting your current direction.

Michigan is in transition from Winter to Spring and I guess I'm feeling the tension. The battle rages — one minute it's Spring and the next it's Winter again. Maybe that's why I created this image. Can you feel the tension? There are always new sculptures along the beach as the ice breaks up and refreezes.

Old Barrel

You never know what the wind and the water will reveal. I guess that's one reason I like the lake shore so much. The sand can be sculpted into a whole new form in just hours. And not all that is revealed is pretty – at least at first glance. Of course I really don't like seeing an old barrel (with who knows what in it) appear from under the sand, but it's oxidized colors and the earth and reflected sky make for an interesting subject. And then there is the tension between organic forms and geometric forms. Wow — I'm getting to cerebral here. I just like the image — OK?
Hope you find it "interesting."

Sorry I've been gone so long but I've really been in a creative slump lately. I can always blame the weather. I think in the month of January we had 25 of 31 days at below normal temps — and for Northern Michigan that's cold. It's not that I'm a weather wimp. In general I can deal with the cold and snow but trying to deal with the weather and your camera system — switching lenses, changing settings, etc — it's tough. BUT really I've just been lacking in some creative enthusiasm. I happens to the best of us. I did read a good book though -- Blue Like Jazz. A real honest, refreshing, account of a person's life journey. As is often the case it is literature, music, or something other than the media that I work in that can get me out of a slump.
So I went to the dunes the other day to gather some images -- I heard temps were going to be reasonable and the sun was to be out most the day. I left home at 5:00 am and arrived at 7:30 and snow shoed up Sleeping Bear Point for a 8:00 am sunrise. The day didn't turn out to be all that productive as far as images go but just being outside and x-c skiing and shoeing was great for the spirit. Attached is one image that worked well -- although it's too much like other stuff I've done. I think I need to experiment a bit more to produce something more exciting.
See you SOON.