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.

Wandering

Why do those bugs that are eating away at the trees make serpentine trails? Are they programmed to weave? Maybe the decaying tree cells are fermented and the bugs couldn't eat a straight line if they wanted to. Do the bugs has a specific place on the tree where they are headed? So why not take the shortest route?
Then again, I have lots of goals but my road to those goals seem more like the bug trails. Even for a pretty goal minded individual I seem to be easily distracted and often confused — is my goal even worth pursuing? I've been thinking about putting together a book of images and words for years, but it doesn't seem to happen. I think what it comes down to is that my life isn't about me, and there are good/important reasons for distractions — serving family, friends, strangers — anyone who needs help. I guess my distractions are goals.
Is this blog entry wandering?
What was I talking about?

Today is Christmas

Sorry, This is not going to be one of those light and fun editions about where and how I got my latest images. It's a peek into the artist and how I look at life, thus, how I look at creating art.
As much as possible I try to live my life one day at a time. That doesn't mean that I don't plan for things — God is ultimately in control, so I'll work at what I feel called to do and plan what I feel called to plan, but I try and hold my work and plans loosely because who knows what God will do or what evil will do to change everything.
Evil — who wants to talk about evil?
Many people get stuck on why God allows evil. My perspective is, God didn't want to create robots so he gave humankind the option of allowing evil and humankind foolishly invited evil into the world — It's not what God wanted. Because evil is so insidious and pervasive, by all rights, the world should be a total mess all the time. So for me the question is not, why does God allow evil — humankind did that. My question is, with evil being so insidious and pervasive, why is there anything beautiful and good in this world? So when I see beauty and kindness I see grace. I see God saying, I'm going to give you a beautiful gift even though humankind doesn't deserve it.
So all those images of flowers and trees and streams and dunes — they're all gifts, and gifts I don't deserve. Everyday I play with images is Christmas.

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.

Vertical Flow

Lately I've been getting these visions in the middle of the night. My brain starts sorting through a catalog of images from recent shoots and somehow a connection is made between images. As some of you may know or have figured out, many of my pieces are like weavings — they are multiple images that are worked together to form a new image.
I was going through some of my Porcupine Mountain images earlier in the day and there was one image that held my interest, but somehow the story wasn't complete. I think it was at about 2 a.m. the next morning that my brain connected an additional image. YES — that was the one that finished the story of the Big Union River on a stormy day. Rain was pelting the surface of the river — kicking up little fountains. The rising waters were picking leaves off the river's edge and carrying them downstream, and the wind was twisting the maples along the banks.
The one element of the image that's a little weird is that the tapestry is vertical but the motion is horizontal. I'm hoping viewer's imaginations can carry them downstream.

Blessings in the new year!

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.