Sunday, March 20, 2011

Give Me Time

I find that revisiting things that I started working on months if not years ago can be a good thing. There is something about putting some distance between you and moments of creative energy that helps refine the image. I wouldn't say it's true all the time — sometimes immediacy is a part of the story you have to tell, but in many cases, like the image I put together here, it needed time to "cook." When you're out there in the field there are often a few visuals that grab your attention and you can become a little fixated on just those objects or plays of light, and when you come back and sort through what you shot you are looking for those few visual cues. But given a little time you begin to see new things that were going on and your brain starts to make connections between one visual and the next. Of course those connections often come to me in the middle of the night and then it keeps me awake — but that's another story. I've been reading a lot about Andrew Wyeth lately, and how he set aside paintings for long periods before finally finishing them. If I remember correctly there was one painting that he started and gave up on, then his kids needed a nice flat board to put their toy train layout on, so the back side of this painting served them very well. Then, years later, at the encouragement of a friend he decided to pull the old piece out and finish it up and he was very pleased with the result.
So I've resolved not to be in a hurry to finish my pieces, and to not totally give up on making an image from a piece that doesn't work right away. Just give me some time.

Saturday, March 5, 2011

The Old Tree


I wonder what this tree has seen? It stands at the center of a long abandoned homestead in the Port Oneida district of Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore. It wouldn't surprise me if the tree is 150 years old. Maybe the family who homesteaded here picked this spot because of this beautiful young maple that shaded the yard. Maybe they planted the tree in anticipation of the shade it would provide. I wonder if it watched young men leave home to fight in the Civil War? They were probably young men who could barely speak English. I wonder how many family members gathered under it's branches for a 4th of July picnic? And how many children climbed into the branches to wave goodbye to their neighbors as their horse and wagon headed home.
I suppose the tree saw and heard its share of tragedy. Maybe a child was lost to influenza or a grandparent to a farm accident. The soil here is rather poor so I don't suspect it was an easy life. The tree probably watched family members leave for extended periods as they picked up jobs in neighboring communities to supplement their income. Maybe the whole family left for Detroit in the 40's to make planes and tanks for the war effort.
When did the family finally abandon this farm? It must have been hard to leave this beautiful place. I wonder if they could have ever imagined how desirable and valuable this land is today?
For me as an artist it's a place of beauty — but as I walk around the old tree I can't help but wonder.