Source: google.com via Robert on Pinterest

What's Left Behind

The wind at Sleeping Bear creates art. Here in the hollows the wind is funneled and intensified and only the weightiest of the dune composites can resist. And even these bulky bits of shell and gravel are aligned into artistic "waves."
There are times in my life when God's wind blows over me. It's not hurricane force — just a steady, compelling wind. There has been neither the storm of tragedy nor flood of blessing that wakes my soul — just the dogged, daily, awareness of a God who pursues me. What is left behind is the weightier things — the things of substance; the things that really matter; things of great beauty — relationships with family, friends, neighbors, and the need to take care of their physical and spiritual needs. Thanks be to God for His consistent, persistent love.

The Right Combination

I was at the dunes last week and enjoyed a beautiful calm, clear, frosty sunrise. I spent the first 45 minutes up on the high bluffs overlooking Sleeping Bear Bay and enjoyed the patterns and textures revealed by the exquisite morning light. But I have to admit I probably wasn't as attentive to the visual gifts as I should have been. It was the migrating waterfowl and shorebirds that made me stop and smile. Loons, buffleheads, mallards, Canadian geese, sandpipers, mergansers and others — their individual voices and their splashing bounced off the the flat waters of the Manitou passage.
As the sun burned off the frost on the highest ridges I skidded down through the ghost forest swale to the shoreline. From above I had noticed a slim line of white that defined the water's edge. I had assumed it was just a little ice left from the larger ridges of mid-winter. But as I got closer I noticed its crystalline nature. Beautiful shards of thin ice all stacked at the waters edge just as neatly as if someone had gently broken them and placed them piece by piece on top of one another. Another gift from the Sleeping Bear. As I made my few shots I imagined the perfect combination of events that created this construct. A perfectly still night (and I mean perfectly still) with freezing temps that allowed a thin layer of ice to form, followed by a a gentle morning breeze that raised just 5 or 6 inch swells — just enough to brake the ice and push it onshore. Or maybe it was a passing lake ship that created enough of a swell to make the miracle. I had to remember to not let my curiosity kill the moment. Whatever right combination of things made this happen, I'm grateful and I just need to accept and wonder at it's beauty.

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.

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.

Broken

I have long held the belief that the reason so many people in "modern" society have rejected or neglected their faith is because they distance themselves from the power of the natural world. Many of us work in controlled environments, we get around in our private glass and steel bubbles on wheels with air conditioning, surround sound, navigation systems, and voice activation. We have homes that condition our water and our air and bring us explorers standing on the edge of volcanoes in high definition at 52 inches diagonally — while tucked in our overstuffed chair. We walk to the kitchen and open a door to a cool stash of entrees that can be popped in the microwave for three-and-one-half minutes to provide us an exotic steamed meal.
Every once in awhile we get a pint-sized dose of reality when a thunderstorm interrupts our day at the lake, but we never stick around to experience the full effect of the storm. We retreat to our autos, or cottage, or park pavilion until it passes.
I wonder what it was like to take a covered wagon across America on the Oregon trail in 1840? Out on the great plains you see a massive storm build on the horizon. There is little you can do but hope and pray that it will dissipate before it reaches you. And when it doesn't, you huddle in the wagon. The leaky patched canvas is more a liability than protection as the first violent wind gusts are caught in these prairie sails and rock the wagon from side to side. Your hair stands on end each time the lightening cracks. Deafening thunder seems to roll continuously. Horizontal rain and hail crush the tall grass around you. You are totally vulnerable for most of an hour.

In today's world we're pretty good at avoiding vulnerability.
Looking at Little Traverse Bay this past weekend I marvel at the incredible energy in the form of wind and water that snapped these thick slabs of ice and then stacked them up on the end of the bay. Some slabs were at least eight inches thick and must have weighed thousands of pounds. I think how easily I could be broken, even though I'm playing it safe in the way I conduct my life. I am really vulnerable. It provides a lot of comfort to me that I belong body and soul to a God who is much greater than myself.

Into the Woods

I just had to walk into the woods. I think it's where imagination lives.
I imagine how much fun it would be to construct a tree house environment in such a place. All these nice straight trees are lined up in nice straight rows — making it easy to create a whole other world about 30 to 40 feet up. Just lash some horizontal poles and lay down some slab wood as a foundation — creating a house where chickadees are your neighbors.
And how much fun it would be to just play games in this woods — the trees providing the streets and alleys for tag and capture the flag.
And on a hot summer day, just disappearing into the woods, enjoying the cool shade, and laying down on a soft bed of pine needles under a flickering light canopy.
And it certainly was fun for my visual imagination.
Some people don't think they have an imagination. That's not true. They just haven't stopped the car along the road and walked into the woods. The folks at your destination can wait. Come on, you've all seen those lines of pine trees in your peripheral vision — alternating flashes of light and dark. Next time just pull over and walk into the woods.

Time in a Bottle

The last two weeks I've been having these flashbacks to Christmas when I was a boy. Yah, you always have that happen around this time of year, but for some reason the memories seem real vivid this year. What's up with that? I think it's a combination of the smell of Christmas trees, chocolate, and mixed nuts that activate my brain's memory banks.
I remember the pressure of the church Christmas program. I was good at the memorization of my lines, but the fear of performing in front of crowds was a killer. I remember at least one program I missed because I "lost my lunch" on the way out the door — heading to church.
I remember anticipating the opening of presents. My parents were always very generous people so there were many packages with my name on them and I spent a lot of time trying to guess the contents. And mom was a great baker — tons of good eats. Mom was also very creative so she checked out all the do-it-yourself Christmas decorations in Better Homes and Gardens and picked out a few for us to try. Being the creative sort, I could really get into that.
Then there was the neighborhood sledding hill. I great place except for one little issue — the telephone pole at the bottom on the left. Stay on course and it was no problem, but should one of your co-sled-riders drag their feet on the wrong side — well, you were destined to add to the red snow around the pole. Years later, at a reception after the presentation of a multi-media piece I had created, a kind older lady congratulated me and we started talking. She asked me what part of town I grew up in. It wasn't long and I discovered that I was talking to the lady who owned the the neighborhood hill property. She told me how the insurance companies had told her to keep the kids off the hill — but she didn't have the heart to do it. It was great to have the opportunity to thank her for the years of sliding fun.
Christmas memories are great — most of the time. I was very privileged, but for some, I'm sure, there is pain in Christmas memories. As our pastor said this morning — Christmas is really not about the past but about anticipation — and not just about anticipation of Jesus's first entrance into the world but that there will be a second entrance, and that entrance will usher in an eternity of glory and joy — and absolutely no pain — simply believe it and it will be yours.

Blessings

Bob

After the Leaves Leave

This part of the year is often overlooked in the succession of seasons — after the colors and before the snow. For me, it’s an exciting time -- simply because it is often overlooked. The beauty is there -- it’s just in places that we don’t often look. Since the leaves are gone the sun can filter down to the forest floor. Since we’re getting close to the shortest day of the year, the sun is lower in the sky and the shadows are long. The leaves have made a wonderful carpet on the floor. The sky can be very dramatic as the cold fronts push through. Most times when I head to the beach there is no one else around — I enjoy the solitude. The beach is also devoid of footprints and evidence of other human activity — that’s one thing about the beach — the wind and waves erase the slate very quickly. On top of everything, my schedule seems to loosen up a bit so the opportunity to get out and collect a few images is more frequent.Yes, there are probably a few more grey days than other times of the year --but “soft light” is an advantage in some cases.
So there’s a lot to love about late fall. Greet each other with a warm hug to help take away the chill and let your smiles be the sunshine.

The Michigan Hurricane

Had some interesting days last week here in Michigan. Several people I talked to said that the only other day that they experienced winds that strong was on November 10, 1975 — the day the Edmund Fitzgerald sank in Lake Superior. I had to get out a couple times and experience it myself. There was an interesting prelude to the storm as alternating "waves" of rain and wind and sunny skies passed through. The most striking moment was when a beautiful double rainbow formed as a storm passed while I was at the state park in Petoskey — late afternoon.
I decided to head down to The Charlevoix area and visited the beaches at Fisherman's Island and Norwood. Norwood was a last minute alternate as I found that the road to Fisherman's was blocked due to a power line down. At the Norwood beach I was struck by the rainbows formed in the blowing spray from the waves (see below). Eventually I was able to get into Fisherman's Island where the show was all about the the giant plumes of spray kicked up as the waves crested. The island, a natural barrier that juts out into the lake, causes the wave action to curl around it so on the north side of the island the waves approach the beach heading south — directly into the wind in this case. Just as the waves would crest the wind gust would blow the wave backward in large arcs. With the background of late autumn trees on the island it presented a wonderful place for picture making.
Hope you enjoy these images from the Michigan Hurricane.

Sky Islands

Returned from Green Valley (just South of Tucson Arizona) last week . Really enjoyed visiting with my sister-in-law and brother-in-law — great people and gracious hosts. It was a visit where we just kicked back and relaxed. The only thing on my agenda was to do a workshop at the Green Valley Camera Club, and that was really a pleasure because I met all sorts of enthusiastic photographers who shared their experiences and encouraged me in my work as an artist. If you’re into photography and looking for a great place to ride out the winter — Green Valley is the place. They have a fantasstic photo club with great facilities (large computer lab and matting and framing facilities) and lots of field trips.
My lovely wife and I did get away for one day trip that included Kirtchner Caverns and Chiricahua National monument. Unfortunately, you can’t take a camera into the caverns, but experiencing the cavern’s forms and textures is inspiring and well worth it.
Chiricahua was beautiful. The National Monument is refered to as a sky island — a place where a series of mountainous peaks rise from the Arizona flatlands. The distinguishing feature of this region are the stone columns or hoodoos that appear to be the ruins of some great lost civilization but are only the result of the forces of nature. We spent too little time there to really get any images that are a meaningful representation of the area but we did sneak in a short hike that we enjoyed thoroughly and I’ll share a couple images with you here.

Hiking the Natural Bridge trail

Opposites

I've always been intrigued by how often nature seems to show contradictory behavior. Years ago, the US Forest Service used to jump to the rescue of the great forests by taking extraordinary measures to put out all forest fires. Now there are times when they let some sections burn or even set forest fires (controlled burns) Why? Because they discovered that some trees and plants only regenerate if they have been through a fire. So something as destructive as fire causes new life — doesn't seem right.
Lots of people nowadays are turning to vegetarian diets (and I can see the wisdom of that choice) but I find it somewhat humorous that the Good Lord created some plants that eat animals — as in the pitcher plant that traps insects and slowly dissolves them into food.
I captured this image the other day on the beach near Petoskey State Park. I was struck by the contrast. The sand was smooth and sculptural while the water was textural and flat. The lighting seemed soft on one and harsh on the other. These results were both caused by the same force — the wind, but with very different results.
It's pretty obvious to me that the Lord loves diversity — well some diversity. He obviously doesn't like both good and evil — so I guess there is diversity about diversity. I think I better stop now.

Grand Marais

Grand Marais

Grand Marais — the name sounds intriguing and colorful unless you know French and understand that Marais means swamp or marsh. I spent a couple days camping with my wife and daughter up at Grand Marais, Michigan (not Minnesota), a quiet little town. There is no longer a marsh or swamp as there probably was when the French voyageurs first visited in the 1600's. It's a nice little harbor — a safe haven between Munising and Sault Saint Marie on Superior's south shore. A cold front was moving through on the days we were there which makes for some "iffy" weather — a real concern for tent campers, as we are, but the positive side is that it can make for some dramatic "atmosphere" for the image maker. So I'll share a little of the drama.

The Green Wave

Big Surf at Miner's Castle Beach (Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore)

Mix It Up

I feel like I've been heavy on "grand landscapes" of late so I'm giving myself some assignments to help break the trend. I told myself that I was just going to take some walks in the back yard (the woods surrounding our house) and just use my 80mm macro. It's one of those contradictory things in life. When you lay out rules it forces you to try new things that in turn boosts your creativity and, over time, broadens the scope of your work. So rules help you break through barriers — interesting.
And lately I've been getting kinda loose with my image making -- more impressionist/soft. So I thought I'd also be a little more hard edged. The result is the image below. A very formal, arranged, sharp, typical camera frame dimensions, type of piece. And I really like it! Just remember rules can be good for you.

Sorry my posts have been few and far between. The upcoming exhibit of my work down in Grand Haven has kinda been a consuming thing. I did sneek up to Waugoshance Point a couple times in the last two weeks. It is a very curious place. A windswept, stony, peninsula that sticks out into Lake Michigan just west of the Mackinac Bridge — part of Wilderness State Park. I think a lot of people drive out there just to see what it's like but not many stick around for any length of time. With a short visit you pretty much get the idea that it's primarily a collection of stone piles, marsh, and small stands of cedar and other scrub trees that have, by some miracle, been able to withstand this harsh environment. But like with many places, if you stay awhile you begin to see it's unique beauty. There are lots of flowering plants (like the Lobelia covered with dew)-- but because of the winds they tend to be small and keep close to the ground. The pools of water are filled with frogs and water skeeters and plenty of other tiny critters.

I'm drawn to places like this — places you have to stay awhile to really get to appreciate. Our culture seems all about the loud, the "in-your-face" type of life — that's how you get your fifteen minutes of fame, right? Well, there are plenty of people out there that are quietly going about their work, serving others, doing it with little complaint, and loving those who aren't very lovable. Those are this world's real heroes — people you have to hang around and really get to know to appreciate. Thanks, Manette, for being a prime example — you are my hero!

Endangered

Michigan Monkey Flower and Forget-me-nots

I went to small piece of land that the Little Traverse Conservancy has set aside, looking for the rare and endangered Michigan Monkey Flower. Seems it only grows in mucky soil and sand that is saturated or covered by cold, flowing spring water. Conservationists only know of 12 sites in Michigan where the plant grows.
I don't know about you but I can relate to the Michigan Monkey Flower. I feel endangered — in the sense that I often feel like there aren't many folks out there that can relate to how I see the world. I'm really not trying to be "artsy" or "different", I'm just trying to do what feels natural to me.
Sorry I'm in a bit of a self pity mode — got to shake it off.
But I tell you what really keeps me going is that cool spring water I'm growing in. You know, that one thing I can always count on making sense in my life — "but whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” I'm very thankful for that water!

Humility

In response to the great cathedrals of the world, I thought I'd create my own place of worship. It is a place that I wouldn't expect people to travel great distances to visit. It is not decorated with great art. The walls don't do a very good job of protecting the people who enter — they are still exposed to the storms of life. I wouldn't wear fine clothes if it wanted to sit or kneel in this place. The only choir is the wind, the crickets, and bird songs.
I'm not knocking the great places of worship in the world. It is important to glorify God with the work of our hands and to inspire others to glorify God, but sometimes we, as Christians, need to be reminded of where OUR glory lies. … And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God. It's really pretty simple — like a building used to store corn.

Blessings

Bob

Halo

The earth is the LORD’S, and everything in it, the world, and all who live in it — Psalm 24:1

Sometimes the Lord has remarkable ways of reminding us of the verse above. Mention the word "halo" and today's kids might think of a video game, but for oldsters like me we tend to think of those glorious paintings of saints from centuries ago that always included the circle above their head to signify their holiness/innocence. At the beach the other day there was this interesting cloud formation and my thoughts went directly to holiness or being blessed. I just had a week where all my children were back home to celebrate my second daughter's (third child) wedding. I felt so incredibly blessed as I watched them sing, work, play and celebrate. My heart really could not contain the joy and gratitude I felt. I think the Lord sent me this image to help me express some of what I felt. I hope you enjoy it too.

blessings

Bob

From the Heart

Every once in awhile I revisit old images — in this case, one I took over 30 years ago. I have a few more tools in my toolbox thanks to digital imaging, and I can play around with these oldies but goodies and make something new.
As you may have noticed I haven't been posting much lately. I have a daughter getting married in a week and I am happily busy helping get ready for the event. I have been inspired by my daughter's life and love and I'm dedicating this new-old image as a blessing for her and her wonderful husband to be.

I call this piece love and faithfulness.

Looking Up

This time of year it's real easy to spend your time looking at what's around your feet. The woodland wildflowers have just a couple weeks to soak in the sun and tempt the insects with their beauty and fragrance before the canopy of maples and beeches block out the sky. Spring beauties, dutchman's breeches, trout lilies, trilliums, and marsh marigolds are occupying every inch of forest floor and their colors and shapes are intoxicating for photographers as well as insects.
I walked up the ravine to the hills where the big beeches live just to find a place to sit and enjoy the breeze. I've often found that if I just relax and observe for a few minutes I'll begin to see new things or old things in new ways. I looked up at a nearby beech tree that had a muscular trunk and then re-focused my eyes on the twigs of sapling beeches that filled space like baby's breath in a bouquet. I've looked at these beeches for years and I'm sure I've seen these leaves emerging before, but today, I really saw them — I took time to enjoy them.
I always look forward to the arrival of the wildflowers in the Spring and I'm sure I always will. But now there's something new to look forward to.