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.

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

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.

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.

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.