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.