Category: Things

A conversation with forms of disintegration

Billions of leaves now lie on my little parcel of the planet. Each whispers a different message about color, form, texture, pattern, volume, shape, and line. Each changes by the hour as they disintegrate; no longer able to fulfill their role in photosynthesis. How do I choose just one leaf to visually converse with? Does it matter which one? Probably not.

Sunday: I pick up three leaves. As I tilt and twist each one and observe the light shifting through the Visoflex (with the 65 mm  Elmar at full extension, plus two tubes) it becomes clear that one leaf has much more to say than the other two. So it does matter. I set up a minimal, miniature studio at “my place” on the kitchen table (just the little SD24 flash on a Nikon off-camera cable, and a white reflector). For the next couple hours that leaf and I enjoy a lovely visual conversation. Two thirds into this conversation Ann asks, “all that!? for one leaf?” I chuckle — and think to myself, “oh yes. This one seems to have a lot to say.” How do I explain these fascinating visual conversations to someone who has not experienced this process? Perhaps by quoting visual excerpts from our dialogue. Before continuing its journey toward becoming fertile dirt the leaf had this to say…

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Leica M8, Visoflex with 65 mm Elmar at full extension, plus two extension tubes

Moonrise over fish fry

Friday: Drive to Sendik’s for the traditional fried fish. Full moon peeks over trees; rooftops; disappears; reappears. Turn right on Port Washington Road. There behind Culver’s it all comes together. Don’t stop. Drive on for the fish as I may see an even better view. Nope. That was the photograph. Buy the fish and seven layer salad. Drive back through the parking lots. Perfect (except for the lack of a tripod). Stand. Still — as the smell of hot cod and tilapia blends with mirages of Adams and Hopper.

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Leica M8, 28mm Summicron Asph

Dancing through time — Friday — flower appears.

ever fewer

ever smaller blooms,
now surrounded by fallen
leaves, dancing in the breeze

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As I look through the view finder I slowly fall in love with this tiny blossom, resting on the weathered cedar, in the shade of the porch; even though the light lacks quality. The afternoon sun requires redirecting. The closest useful tool sits six feet away; in the kitchen drawer. A sheet of aluminum foil allows me to bring the sunlight back into the scene. As I search for the composition the slight fall breeze continually moves the near weightless leaves around the subject — a delicate dance. New leaves appear on this dance floor. Others depart. The breeze on the foil also causes the light to dance about in endless variations. So too does the camera move; closer; further; lower; higher; searching for the rhythms. So which of these best captured my affection for the subject and the light? I still can’t decide.

Leica R8/DMR, 100 mm Apo-Macro-Elmarit

Weird Wednesday. Will it become a tradition?

One’s perception of weird, like beauty, will depend a great deal on the beholder’s point of view. Having not been raised Catholic I’ll admit that I found a recent visit to Holy Hill slightly weird. Raised in a family with membership in a strict Lutheran synod it was not the icons themselves that had this effect on me; it was rather the contexts and signage which surrounded the icons that struck my eye as visually weird. Things like plastic bottles, and spigots coming out of rocks, with the words “Holy Water” on them – and apparently for sale – right along side the Coca Cola, etc.

I certainly believe the Carmelite Friars when they inform me that their video cameras watch me. However I rather doubt their claim that “GOD” has an interest in watching my strolling about; whether at Holy Hill or elsewhere.

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Below is a detail from the lower right corner of the above photograph.

M8, 28 mm Summicron

Weird Wednesday

Some many years ago Sonny Carter began the Friday Flowers tradition over on the LUG (Leica User Group) email list. Yesterday Lawrence Zeitlin began what may become a new new tradition: Weird Wednesday with this deer triptych. This past Sunday Ann wanted to drive out into the country to see the fall color. We decided to drive West and a bit North toward Holy Hill. We could expect to find, hills, winding 2 lane roads through forested land and, ultimately, a fine view from the highest point near us. Along the way we found these fellows, who apparently had the same idea, on the road to holy hill:

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Leica M8, 28 mm Summicron

Dan Nauman’s bronze railing at Lynden Sculpture Garden

On September 7th Dan Nauman installed the final terminus section of his bronze railing at Lynden Sculpture Garden. However we had to wait for the patina to even out across all the sections before attempting to photograph the completed railing. Last week I gave the afternoon light an opportunity to charm the railing; and this week I gave the morning light an equal opportunity. These bronze forms stretch the the photographic limits in terms controlling highlights, contrast and complex color. To capture the movement, rhythms, forms and details of this intriguing metal work I used 15, 35, 50, 80, 100 and 180 mm lenses; lay on the ground; and climbed a ladder to find where the background, the piece and th light made the most visual sense together. To more fully comprehend the intricacies of the railing, the rather difficult environment surrounding it, along with the ever changing light — you can view the slide show of additional views and details.

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Leica R8/DMR, (numerous lenses were used)

Beauty and its beholders

Heading north on Lake Dr., approaching Capital Dr., I notice, for the second time, a newly installed sculpture in Atwater Park. This time I stop to have a closer look. Approaching the transparent human form, by internationally known artist Jaume Plensa, I’m immediately hooked into the visual elements of both the metal and its surroundings. The Leica moves to my eye.

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A young mother, with two children, also appeared, drawn to this installation. They speak quietly about what they see. The little girl attempts to find the letters of her name within the figure.

A truly beautiful, warm, fall day
to experience the powerful presence of this great lake;
these metal sans serif letters loosely describing a contemplative human figure;
and this lovely mother with her children.

Did the camera capture these simple, peaceful thoughts along with my nonverbal feelings? Later, looking at the images on the computer, I think, “maybe.”

So I began writing this post by googling to find the name of the sculptor; only to find this depressingly, negative review of the Atwater installation; complete with absolutely horrible photographs. I agree with the critic, Mary Louise Schumacher, about the frumpy poured concrete base; the rest of her critique – not at all. It seems neither she nor her photographer could see or properly feel this particular intersection of art, lake-scape and humanity. Yet, thankfully, this work, titled Spillover II now exists there for we who care to experience and enjoy it.

Leica M8, 75 mm Summilux and 28 mm Summicron