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.

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.

The First of Many

Gateway to the Hemlocks

I'm sifting through thousands of images I collected during my Artist-in-Residence at the Porcupine Mountains Wilderness State Park. I chose this one as the first of many that I'll probably post here over the next few weeks. One of the most noteable features of "the Porkies" are the stands of virgin Hemlock. But how do you capture a forest? The lighting is a problem because its always very spotty/contrasty. The subjects are these tall objects that are very difficult to place in one image. And often you can't see the forest for the trees -- as in it's hard to find a spot where you can get a perspective of the forest without having to shoot through other tree trunks or branches.
Well here is an attempt. I took an impressionist bent because the lighting reminded me of a Monet painting and I felt that the the textures of the bark, forest canopy, and forest floor would be enhanced by this style. I hope you enjoy this first of many.

Weather the Weather

I've been on the road for the last three weeks. First, I went to the Porcupine Mountains Wilderness State Park as Artist in Residence and with a quick turn around headed to Sleeping Bear Dunes to serve as a workshop presenter and field trip leader for a NANPA (North American Nature Photographers Association) event. At both locations I had to contend with some pretty "rough" weather. Wind, cold, and rain seemed to be a forecast staple. I'll admit that it wasn't always easy to get out of bed at 6 am to go collect images, but I reassured myself that no matter what the weather I would get good shots.
Necessity is the mother of invention — right? And likewise, a challenge is the mother of creativity. The weather forced me to think differently about what I was shooting — a good thing. And the Porcupines had been very dry most of the summer so the forests and critters needed the rain — a good thing. Well, I better stop there or I'll sound like a positive think guru. Getting real — the weather was tough to endure at times, and I did ask why me, why now? But it was part of a plan and I've learned to be humble and accept that plan, whether I understand it or not.

Showers of blessings

Bob