Monday, March 18, 2024

March is a Cruel Month

It's March 18.  After 70° F days, it's backwards again.   It's around freezing and spitting graupel; that's what is formed by super-cooled water droplets that freeze on falling snowflakes.  (Wouldn't you be pleased not to know what that is?) How cruel to be teased with a few warm days.

Yesterday, I was out with my camera searching for encouragement and found just two reasons to hope. The first was my old friend Skunk Cabbage.  It can emerge through snow thanks to a catalytic process.  No snow in this March, but it's still good to find.  I recalled this discovery on April 18, 2021 and decided to return.

The location is lovely.  A slender path of water flows down a mossy bank towards Cayuta Lake near me. There was one missing element.  In most examples, the soft yellow flower is located deep inside the green and mauve hood that is possibly protecting the pollen from being washed away before insects can visit the stinky flower.  This year, maybe I'll find one with the flower's visible the hood?  I'd just about surrendered when this was revealed!

The appetite for spring wildflowers in March can create excitements at the slightest prize.  Didn't mind getting my knees muddy for this.

Another possible wildflower is Sharp-Lobed Hepatica.  It's order of emergence seems a bit odd.  The plant blooms before the year's leaves emerge.  Again in 2021, I found this example with 2020's leaves surviving.

Yesterday, I again found an old friend in bloom but the 2023 leaves were gone.

Disclosure: At the time,  I was traveling light and used my iPhone 13 Pro with the ProCamera app.  Pretty good for such small tool when an advanced application is installed.

Still, I reiterate my premise. March is a cruel month.  I am  going out later wearing a down jacket, warm gloves and stocking cap.  Please excuse my whining.

Paul



Monday, February 12, 2024

Learning from a Winter without Snow

When the Art of Winter program by creative photographer Chris Murray was announced, there were justifiably visions of snowy forests with stark birch tree stands and graceful glacial drumlins across the land.  The hope was to find scenes like my March 2021 image at right of Cayuta Outlet near my home.  Sadly the Thousand Islands this year in February had scant snow cover.

The three days were going to be challenging,  yet that might actually turn out to be a better learning opportunity.  There arrives a call to more deeply observe and really understand what draws your interest. What follows are a selection of images that offer enjoyment and hopefully also ideas for coping with rainy days, dull light and otherwise disappointing situations.  Hasn't that happened to everyone?

On one morning we went to Dewolf Point State Park on Wellesley Island.  It is on a bay with only a very narrow connection to the main river.  Unlike most river areas, the bay is largely immune to river currents, so there was plenty of good ice. Arriving shortly before sunrise, two fishermen were soon loading their sheds.  We'd walked out to a line of summer cabins facing the expected sunrise.  The view did not impress me.  As I walked back to another view with a stately red cedar, the sound of the anglers' sheds crunching on the ice suggested they were on a path towards the point of the sun's appearance.   Backtrack quickly!  The sun can't be delayed.  See this!


 
There were two images to select.  When they were standing, the man's head on the right touched the dark treeline.  Creatively, it's called a conjoined element and is to be avoided.  Later, there were more fishermen on the ice but the missing starburst lowers the result to ho-hum. 

Once my gear was packed and I climbed the path from the view, there was warm sunlight bathing one of the summer cabins along the path.  Not wanting the open my pack again, the iPhone was pulled out.  This is an excellent time to ask the simple question, "what drew you to take an image?"  I hope you say something about the warm light on the line of icicles across the roof line of snow and also in the brilliant window reflections.

That was the answer for me. I am guessing this cabin is already reserved for most weeks in the summer.  Another thought is that a quick photo sure beats just ignoring the opportunity.  

Winter is also a rich source of beautiful monochrome images.  The next setting drew my interest as I saw this large snow capped rock with a fringe of icicles dipping towards the St. Lawrence River's waves. Many photos were run in continuous batch to get the best shape on the water. 


In other years, the river would be all ice and the wave shapes and fringes on the rock missing.  It's really a very simple photo.

The ice along the river builds forms often dependent on wind direction and the rock formats.   Here's another situation where the ice laid up a scalloped pattern.  

The real challenge for the above was getting into the narrow trough of rocks where the forms were free of distractions (and then climbing back up after my one leg fell asleep!)

The next image presents a contrast between a geological form and a seasonal form.  Hard rock and hard ice drew my interest.
 

I saw a sort of yin-yang pairing that was better in black & white. 

Later that morning at Dewolf Point, our leader took us to a long spine of hard rock that paralleled the northeast lay of the bay.   I conjecture that the spline resisted the glacial assault that excavated the bay.  Here's a wide view of the wall of rock exposed.



The panoramic image distorts the shape of the wall.  It's nearly horizontal on the top.  The height is close to 20 feet. One could spend a long day exploring the many patterns in the the stone.   The section below fascinated me.




So, I looked more closely and explored what I interpreted as a tree in a violent turmoil, perhaps a firestorm.  The large tree is in the far left and flames swirl away in a maelstrom.



That morning was surprisingly rich with ideas.  The afternoon was a bit challenging until the sun collided with a distant shore of the St. Lawrence River. Not any clouds, but a nice starburst framed by a nearby point.
 


The final morning sunrise was a bit richer when some wispy clouds appeared to capture the warm hues.
 

 
In terms of whiz-bang images, it was not easy.   But, measuring the lessons gained absent any "easy", it was extremely valuable.  I am not at all hesitant to share these images.  In every one, there is a clear reason why the subject was chosen and how it was arranged in the overall location. You cannot see what was excluded carefully to avoid any viewer confusion.  Success is knowing what to take and what to leave behind.  That's a line from a John Denver song "Friends with You."

Learning usually comes from challenges. 

Hope you enjoy the message.

Paul Schmitt


Tuesday, January 2, 2024

Trees in Winter

Picture that you are in the National Gallery of Art , sitting with me on a large, comfy leather couch enjoying walls of lovely impressionist paintings.  A small group of visitors come in to the gallery and with machine-like efficiency make cell phone images of every painting on the walls, and then move on to the next gallery.  Look closely and you'll see a guard sigh.  The visitors have documented but never really seen any of the paintings.  Such a waste of Monet.  So many look, so few really see.  That's always been the primary use of photography.  My story today is about how I could move past documenting. Maybe it will inspire you.

It's been a goal of mine through 2023 to move towards really seeing.  With the leaves off trees in late fall, my images have studied trees.  Here's a tree in my friend Leo's beautiful woodlot.

Actually it  is two trees.  The one on the right began it's life growing on a fallen dead tree. After years, the dead tree disappeared leaving three legs arching to the ground.  On left, a younger tree grew up between two legs.  Maybe it's a three-legged tree with a "friend". Anyway, it is interesting and worth really moving from looking to seeing.  I did that by sketching it and adding watercolors.  I devoted about 2-1/2 hours going from a tree to a combination of particular parts that add  up these two trees. Once complete, this was not just a tree, but now it is an individual. 

There's a difference.  This experience is at the heart of what can move photography from look to see.  My time in the recent months has been a balance of sketching and photographing with the aim to shift images to seeing.  (No more sketches now, just photos representing deeper seeing.  I find it easier to draw when no one gets to see my mistakes.   Also, working in ink taught me to ignore errors and just keep moving forward.)

Here is a scene from along Rock Creek in Washington, DC.

The beech trees are tenacious.  They take hold on top of the rocks and send roots around all stony barriers.  Removing all color often removes distractions to really seeing.  (Consider this a portrait and maybe it will influence family snapshots you make?)

Still along Rock Creek on an explore one morning, there is this fallen tree washed into the creek.  The reflection of the tree in the foreground caught my attention.  Typically, my eye begins exploring at the strongest contrast, which in this case it was the tip of the dead tree at the reflection.

What follows is a simple image that I first sketched with much attention to the textures of the huge oak tree in the fore. 



The tree textures in the middle ground also were sketched in detail.  This is also in Rock Creek Park.

There are also times where color deserves attention.  On a post-Christmas wander in Leo's woods, I spotted a sulfur colored fungus on a decaying beech stump.  It's a good example of moving from look to see.  First, I needed the distance to be de-focused.   Next, the subtle greens and rusty leaves seemed so much of the story that monochrome was out of the question.


I made over 40 images of this before I was happy with the background.  The stump needed to be separated from the hemlock to the left and beyond that, the rest needed to be blurry.  That's the way I will sketch this for a watercolor.  

The above was of such deep involvement that I lost all sense of time. That's a real benefit of learning to really look deeply. It's a type of Zen (seeing) that I first discovered in the National Gallery.  I am doing more sketching now than photographing,  yet when the camera is involved the influence of drawing with pen on paper is strong.

As I write this, the long range weather forecast uses the word snow.  I'm excited to have the simplicity of snowy ground, but it is unlikely I will find it possible to hold a pen and draw with cold fingers.  My seeing will only move to drawing once inside.  

My hope is that there is a mix of entertaining images plus useful ideas.

Best wishes for 2024.

Paul Schmitt


Tuesday, October 24, 2023

There's Gold and Red on the Hills, Finally

Watching the evening news on October 11, and the reporter showed a map of the autumn colors for New York with my Finger Lakes at peak.  One can understand the motivation by state tourism interests to overstate the situation.  Actually, we began to get widespread color ten days later.   Hiking at the Houghton Preserve in Corning on October 21offered some nice red and gold colors.


The ground was becoming littered with clusters of leaves on a mossy stream bank. Th light rain was easily ignored when balanced with finding autumn colors.  I met a nice couple from Baltimore who like to take a rest stop here on their way  to Ontario.  They reminded me how lucky I am to live here.

It is good to look for the unusual routes falling leaves take in their tumble to earth. This red and yellow maple leaf found rest on this low growing bush. 



It's now twelve days since the claim of peak colors.  The colors have spread more widely, so an excursion to Newtown Battlefield State Park near Elmira was promising.

The park road passes through a variety of tree habitats.  I've walked this road many times, but never before has the color been so golden.  There is one section where Revolutionary War re-enactments are held each September.  This rail fence lines the road to the re-enactment site.


At the end of the road, it was time for some hiking of the trails looking for more red and gold. 

The autumn colors must be balanced with fall chores, so my morning foray started me towards home with a final stop at the rail fence where another visitor came along (to stop and share ideas for other favorite autumn locations in the Finger Lakes.)

 

I meet the nicest people when I am hiking.

Thanks for your interest.

 

Paul Schmitt


Saturday, October 14, 2023

Finding the Essense of Autumn

In the last post, my story was about how to create fall photography in a less than optimum autumn.  Since that post, there has not been a magical turnaround in our landscape. However, on return from 3-1/2 days in the higher elevations at Blackwater River in northeastern West Virginia, the results were a confirmation of the last post. Here goes the picks of the trip.

From the rim of the Blackwater River Canyon in the state park, this twisted tree captured my attention.  After many slight shifts in position, a layered image was discovered.  Notice that none of the three vertical tree elements on the left side touch.


The first version of this was captured with my iPhone 13 Pro.  I returned the next day when the light's direction was better.  If you first see a nice image, make it then.  There is no guarantee about the situation a day later.

On another day I was at Dolly Sods.  It is a high-elevation rocky wilderness area hosting sphagnum moss, heath shrubs and stunted red cedar normally seen in Canada.  There were rich colors.

Color was to be found also at lower elevations.  Once out of the canyon, the Blackwater takes a winding course with beaver ponds and less exotic flora.  In October, asters, such as this one, are a reliable source of rich color.
 
The valley had large clusters of  ferns.  These violet asters were complemented by the orange and yellow ferns. 

Here's a good example of my earlier suggestion to photograph now, rather than procrastinating for a better day.  After making this image, a local gentleman shared that the barn is scheduled to be demolished in a few weeks.  It won't matter how brilliant the fall is next year for this barn.

There are large bogs of huckleberries in Dolly Sods.  I was drawn to this setting by the lonely white stalk of a dead weed standing among all of the reddish leaves in the bog.  The distant mountain ridge suggests the extent of the field.

Many people are discouraged by a rainy morning, but the softness of the light and the moisture on the land can produce lovely results.  The last morning dawned foggy with a few sprinkles.  Several photographers passed this single dying fern without seeing the echo of its arch in the broken tree branch on the ground.  That's no criticism, but rather a simple example of the variety in what each person finds interesting. This is what my eyes first attached upon.  Do you find it beautiful?

I've always had a "thing" about decaying tree stumps.  Its only ones from natural collapses, never ones from chain saws.   The way falling leaves decorate the stumps in autumn attracts me.  Consider this one.

Oh, the fog had lifted and some delicious warm light bathed the setting.

I have been holding back with my two favorite images.  I love the creamy look of slow exposures on waterfalls.  If by chance, there is a recirculating eddy to include in the foreground, I will take some small personal risks to explore the possibilities.  The path there was sort of  goat path.  This is the Upper Elakala Falls in the Blackwater State Park.  

 I did a lot of small shifts to place the flat rock in the lower left corner.  Little details matter.

A second love for me is when form, colors and separation from the background just fall into place.  This one did.  Notice how the yellow-green fern is echoed by a brown fern in the back. 

There are nine images here.  Only two large landscapes.  The rest are intimate.  It seems the season may be best captured with a balance from wide to close.  If you look at the professional film and video, you will see how the framing is rarely repeated with each 10 second clip.    

Paul


Monday, October 2, 2023

Autumn 2023- No Colors, What to Do

The title says it clearly for the Northeast US.  In May we had a killing freeze that coincided with critical times for many fruit and forest trees blossoms.  Many oaks lost all their leaves and some of those failed to send up new leaves.  Fruit trees suffered as did grapes.

Then we had a dry period for a month.  Did not help.  The rain returned but damage was done.  The landmark red maple on my street that always has had  brilliant red is dull brown.  

What to do to salvage some autumn beauty?  I've got some ideas.

First, abandon plans for those grandiose wide angle landscapes.  Think small.  Here is a simple maple that had some nice red leaves on a foggy morning.

 Next,  go elsewhere for autumn.  There are late blooming bushes that are in flower like honeysuckle.  I found this on a walk towards Rock Creek Park in DC.  My phone camera was adequate for this.

Think asters. Fall is their season to shine.  These were in Mundy Wildflower Garden on Cornell campus.  The seed head on the grass stalk make this doubly attractive.

There are an abundance of fall flowers like asters, Black-eyed Susan's, and Goldenrod. Here's two of those growing together, also at the wildflower garden.



 

Fall is also fungi season, especially after some rain.  Just don't delay.  Mushrooms can fade quickly or become deer food.

Let's look at more fungi for ideas.  In this example, I composed so you can see where this golden cluster is to be found.

This last image is really going to an unexpected place. It's some scarlet fungi growing on a stack of rotting logs. Look closely and find the small green slug on the lower area. Not sure if it is passing through or feeding.  Either way,  red and green are complementary so I pulled out my phone and captured it. 


 

I have long felt that autumn is challenging.  There are expectations to find the expansive landscape view with so much included in one capture.  Looking closely offers more opportunities.  When the colors fail to be available, it's a perfect reason to look closely.  

I hope this inspires you to delight in the intimate parts of the season.

Paul Schmitt

DISCLAIMER: Due to the writer's strike and upcoming travel, my copy editor is unavailable to proof read my text.  Errors are of my own doing.




Wednesday, September 6, 2023

Winged Gold- Late Summer

My last post was titled Golden Joy.  Now those sunflowers are all mature seeds.  I am continuing the "gold" theme with two flying critters that also deliver joyful reactions.  

One principal source here is cone flowers. Top on the list of seed eaters found on them are the Gold Finches.  The male at left is just pausing. When his crop is full, he'll soar away to feed the chicks. Initially, the female stays on the nest and I only see males. But soon, the demand by the chicks is too much for the male, and both of the pair engage in furious harvesting. Then, in a few days, the chicks fledge and the activity nearly ceases.

Often, the Gold Finches are mostly hidden in the densely packed clusters of cone flowers. After many largely hidden birds, one male chose a nice single stalk to feed on. The camera jumped into long runs of high speed shooting. The result was two "keeper" images out of a sequence of over sixteen. 


Another golden flyer is the Tiger Swallowtail butterfly. This one was feeding on other cone flowers in a more southern location, where they hadn't yet gone to seed. You can tell that it is recently emerged.  With time, they can get pretty ragged on the fringes.




A few moments later, I found a butterfly bush in full bloom.  I was amazed to see two swallowtails sharing the same plant.  


These golden flyers won't be around long.  I'm schedule next week for a short outing to see bugling elk in western Pennsylvania.  Autumn is just around the corner. 

Paul Schmitt