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.

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.

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.

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!

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

Overcast

Here is an image that "just happened" a few days ago. Sometimes you can spend a whole day at a favorite photo hot spot and have just the right mix of sun and clouds and everything you come home with seems uninspired. Then there are the moments that "just happen."
The sky was overcast. I was not feeling particularly creative. So I told myself I'd take a short walk down the beach — the goal; just get some fresh air and exercise. Maybe it was because I was relaxed. Maybe it was because I like the color purple. Maybe the combination of light, clouds, and water never came together in just that way before, at least while I was at the beach. Who knows? For some reason I became keenly aware that the receding waves were a beautiful purplish blue. I pulled out the camera and took just a few shots. I used a slow shutter speed and followed the motion of the waves thinking the softness of motion might enhance the mellow mood of the light.
The result is this image. Certainly not the "immediate" drama of some images -- but for me it really has a strong emotive effect. I hope you enjoy it as well.

Blessings,

Bob

Cold

Every year we get a few cold days in early Spring — days that are deceptively cold. Part of the problem is that we've already had a few Spring-like days where the temps hit 50+ and we run outside with just our hoodies on. Then come the days where it is bright and sunny but the air is more in tune with your down parka. I knew it would be cold out on the beach but I decided I needed to get out there and shoot.
The sky was crystal clear as I headed to Fisherman's Island — around 5 PM. The access road along Lake Michigan is a seasonal road (not plowed) so, as expected, there were remnants of drifts still crossing the blacktop. It made me a little nervous cause the last thing I wanted to do is get stuck way back at Inwood Creek. I know from previous visits that there is no cell phone coverage out there. Anyway, my desire to capture some images outweighed my fears and I wove my way around and over the stubborn ice to road's end.
The one good thing about the cold was that even though the skies were clear, the fact that you could see your breath would keep away most other visitors. Not that I don't like people, it's just that I'm easily distracted when I'm working on images. Growing as an artist means learning about yourself. I attempt to put myself with the right places at the right time to eliminate distractions, AND, even more importantly, I work at getting myself in the right frame of mind. When shooting in familiar locations I have a tendency to visualize the images that are waiting for me. Anticipation has some good points in that it helps me decide what gear to have along and strategizing saves some time when gathering images, but there is a downside. Having a plan keeps me from being open to something new that's just waiting to jump into my camera. I have learned to just slow down and walk round the area for a few minutes before pressing the shutter.
In looking over my images today I'm very pleased with what I was able to capture at Fisherman's Island. I had to endure some frozen toes (I got my feet wet) but it was worth it.

Easy Walking

We often characterize Winter as a time to "battle the elements", but as I made my way out to the beach the other day I found that it was easy walking. It was a comfortable 1/2 mile stroll to one of my favorite spots on Little Traverse Bay. In summer the sand provides a poor springboard — absorbing some of the energy of each forward step, but in winter the moisture in the sand has frozen making my locomotion very efficient — a benefit, not a battle.
But I have to be honest. As in most of life there is give and take. When I reached Menonaqua Beach I felt compelled to walk into the stream to get this shot. No, I didn't have my rubber boots on so I knew my feet would get a little damp. When it's twenty degrees that can be a problem. But you know what? It really didn't bother me so much. There was a bright sky and I was having fun taking pics so I chose to ignore the discomfort.
I think I'll choose to ignore a discomfort today and another one tomorrow. Maybe I'll make it a habit.

Stakeout

Most of Thursday morning last week was spent up on Sleeping Bear Point. There are always beautiful grand landscapes to capture — which I did. Then after my traditional lunch — Surf-n-Turf (a hamburger and smelt) at Art's Tavern, I headed with a couple friends to a beach near the Homestead Resort. We walked the shoreline toward Pyramid Point but unlike our morning excursion there just didn't seem to be any interesting subjects. After the turn-around in the shadow of the point's tall bluff I decided to walk a few yards inland instead of retracing my steps at the water's edge. Sometimes the waves and wind place some interesting objects in the grass. I passed a section of beach that a local camp uses in the summer and noticed this group of stakes — simple, rusty, utilitarian, stakes. Probably there to hold up a volleyball net in the summer months. But I loved their simple shape and their interaction with each other and the shadows they cast. Call me crazy but this was my favorite capture of the day. Maybe not as impressive as the grand dunes with their windswept lines of snow and sand, but elegant beauty in my mind.
Next time you're out for a walk look for the simple beauty in things — especially in the person that's walking along side you.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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."