More time in my old hometown. I’m not going to pretend that it’s an enjoyable place for me to visit. With the cold, damp blast of winter, it’s even less hospitable. My camera provided little solace, though a wander through the woods down the block from my father’s house gave me a small bit of nature; a reprieve. Back when I was a kid, you could cross paths with a skunk or a possum in these woods. But in the decades since I left, deer have become ubiquitous in the area. They show little fear of humans, which is maybe a blessing and a curse for both sides of the equation. I did come face to face with this youngster while wandering through the late February thaw / muck. We sized each other up before parting ways. Two lone creatures trying to get through life while surrounded by suburban sprawl, we shared something in common on a gray afternoon in New Jersey.
There is silence to be found here, even though you need to search harder to find it.
In the middle of the dense population of northern New Jersey, it is still possible to find a bit of untamed nature. The Flat Rock Brook Nature Center in Englewood is a quiet, deserted little slice of forest and running water. A respite from family obligations and mounds of paperwork. This place reminds me how important the natural world has become to me.
Winter in New Jersey
2022: 47 Winding Down
The last, waning days of autumn are very soon going to surrender to winter. The chill in the air has now evolved into true, bracing coldness. The time for quiet reflection is now upon me. Thus, I will take some time away from these pages and turn inwards. Silence can speak volumes.
Ice studies from an alley in Downtown Albuquerque
2021: 8 ........ Get Closer
Winter came down hard on the US this week, and New Mexico was no exception. Thankfully, we never lost power or water or internet… count your blessings, right? The snow cancelled my weekly sojourn to the bosque on Thursday, depriving me and my fellow photographer our time to talk process, to vent about sundry frustrations, and to make some photographs. Luckily, snow doesn’t stick around too long in these parts, our dry climate and abundant sunshine melting away most snowfall by midday.
I wandered Downtown Albuquerque on Friday for a few hours, expecting it to be fairly quiet, thanks to ongoing pandemic restrictions. The plus side of course was plenty of parking. Gear alert: I put extension tubes in between my lens and camera, allowing me to play a bit with extreme close up photography. Technical issues and approaches are not usually a big concern of mine. The end justifies the means, ultimately. I don’t care what tricks it takes to make an interesting image…most of the time. And I gather that with the exception of a few peers and inquisitive photo dweebs, most viewers don’t really care how you made your photograph.
This set up forced me to focus on small details, bending and kneeling and getting in within a few inches of my subject matter. Added bonus to this approach was the fact that I was doing this in a fairly barren back alley in the middle of the city. Not too worried about being smacked in the back of the head while setting up a shot…or getting run over by a distracted delivery driver, but you never know what’s lurking behind that dumpster. To my point, while I was hunched over a frozen pothole filled with ice and water, a random dude rolled up on his bicycle, with a full bottle of St. Germain in his hand. He asked for help unscrewing the cap, as it apparently had gotten gummed up from dried liquor and was impossible to open. I guess that’s why it ended up in the back alley, and then in his hands.
Anyway, the exploration taught me a few things. First off, there’s nothing wrong with playing with different approaches in my image making. I generally don’t likely “macro” photography. I find it a bit of a gimmick, and the whole idea of seeing a miniature world up close feels slightly cliche and predictable to me. But the process did force me to challenge those biases, and fight the urge to give up. I certainly wasn’t expecting to do a series of ice crystal studies behind a barber shop in downtown Albuquerque, but that’s where I landed. No harm, no foul. It was a fun diversion, and I’m not against the idea of pushing this approach further. “If your pictures aren’t good enough, you’re not close enough,” Robert Capa famously said. It’s been repeated ad nauseam. I guess it took a detour in my usual approach to discover the truth to it, after all. A lesson learned.
2019: 49 (Observations)
I don’t know why, but it took me far too long to realize we are coming to the end of a decade. Ten years seems to have gone by so fast, as it does when you get older. Maybe when you’re younger, too? Once you slip from the bonds of the regimented seasonal / annual scheduling that school provides, and the ‘real world’ in all its shapes and forms throws you onto a treadmill… days, weeks, years seem to go by at a more rapid clip.
We’re at that time of year to reflect upon what has come, where we are, where we want to go. I’ve been dancing around these thoughts more deeply lately… I guess my existentialism is growing, fully developing into my modus operandi. I’ve been working on being present, feeling the here and now. The past is gone, the future is the future, all we have is now. All we ever have is now. Which feels at odds with my life as a photographer. I seize moments with our cameras, but what do they become? Tangible manifestations of past moments, memories caught in proverbial amber (or pixels, or grains of silver halide.) We gaze at our pasts through photos, equally as much as we do with actual memories. And what about the future? We plan, we prepare, we gird ourselves for an unknowable future, for me, with a camera in my hand. I plan trips to come. Locations to shoot. Projects to undertake and complete. Or not. Books to create. Photos to post. Website to update. Dreams to dream. Fantasies to entertain. Scenarios to imagine. Fears to avoid. Or face. Anxiety to dive deep into. Joys to find. Love to give, and to receive. What a mix we make in our minds. What a stew simmering in my own mind.
I know that over the next few weeks, when the holidays kick into overdrive, my melancholy will most likely shift to a more peaceful, middle ground, (a neutral gray) punctuated by moments of joy, of laughter. I know this to be true because even in my darkest moments, these gifts have somehow always arrived. Small bottles of hope that somehow wash up on the shore. This is a natural time of reflection, of course. A double whammy this year as we bid the “Teens” their farewell. 2020 is coming. The metaphor of perfect vision that looms on the horizon. What will I focus on? What will you? For me, this: It is today. It is now.
Work in Progress: Abstraction and Textures
Sometimes I shoot without any intended outcome other than to keep my eyes sharp and my control over my camera in the ready. Sometimes even those intentions go out the window, as they did on a recent jaunt through one of my favorite locations to shoot, the Rio Grande bosque. Late winter is a particularly good time to venture into the overgrowth along the river, as the temperature is pleasant, the late winter light is magical, and the lack of new spring foliage allows one to sift deeply through the remnants of dead flora. For tech dweebs, I turned the autofocus off on my camera, used a very shallow depth of field, and dragged along an external light source to fill in shadow areas. What resulted is a series of contrasty, abstract images that somehow convey the feelings I was experiencing on a late winter day. Not sure where these images fit in the grander scope of my work, but if nothing else, it felt good to follow the maxim "don't think, just shoot."
the outskirts of Park City, Utah
Winter in the West
A frozen moment as I left the Sundance Film Festival.