now that it's receeding...

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More old news, but continuing in the trend of showing what the camera saw, here it is. Claire's is probably better.

the 3 sibs

RDW; JHW; KMW; MoM in bkgnd

This is what we do on Christmas. Anybody want to share theirs?

where's the hog path at?

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Better put this up, or it's not going to happen.

The night prior to this photo, it took 5-1/2 hours to get home from the market, a trip that ordinarily takes 15 minutes. It was truly a challenge to yours truly's sanity and patience. At least I wasn't one of the unfortunates who spent over 24 hours in their car, as some out there did. You might say people around here don't know how to handle their vehicles in the snow. Alas, 4-5 days later, we're still digging our way out of 24 inches of this white stuff.

comcast buys nbc

Old news...Are we supposed to care?

The 3D sucked, and the flat version was cheesy. But otherwise the display technology was impressive. The "holiday" display in the Comcast headquarters, that is.

one more - why not?

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genteel decay

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From Friday's two hour wait while getting vehicle serviced - at least it doesn't feel like a total loss of time.

my very own Eggleston - red Avenger included

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Drummond Island, MI. 10 August 2009

return

Definitely in the spirit of Joe Reifer's admonition to turn off the phone and the internet, our recent days of travel the length of the state of Michigan were a mostly relaxing time away from the life of the everyday. Certainly not a technology free trip, since we did have a newish rental car, an ipod for the teen, a phone that ceased to function once we crossed the Mackinac Bridge, along with several digi cams, a complete 4x5 outfit with 20 sheets of quickload film, walkie talkies, and credit cards. But mostly, free time was spent in the outdoors, eating, reading books and magazines, and with cameras. It baffles me why people want to go on vacation and be in constant contact with their ordinary daily life. It seems the point is to vacate the daily routine and find something new.

 

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Our travels took us in search of the perfect ice cream in Traverse City, sour cherries in Central Lake, pancakes while at the Drummond Island Resort, a car key locked in the trunk on the west end of Drummond Island, a fly less dusk during the two days of summer to hit Grand Marais, a student revolution in Ann Arbor. Only partial success with all of these endeavors. But there are tales to tell. Stay tuned for more.

an end to the trail

It's taken some five or six years to make the circuit, but we've traversed as much of the Rivanna Trail as we can find, and travelled all the way around the city of Charlottesville. There are sections where the trail follows local streets due to access problems. And there are gaps in the trail, the most obvious being the final section we followed along Moore's Creek from Quarry Park to the confluence with the Rivanna River. There quite simply is no way to cross Moore's Creek except on the railroad trestle - an act of tresspass - or wade through water that is heavily tainted by the outfall from a sewage treatment plant. It also appears that once across Moore's Creek there is a short section with no trail markers along the Rivanna River through Woolen Mills to the section we began with at Riverview Park a number of years ago. A great concept nicely executed still in progress.

when will they come out?

Several weeks ago, I asked Joe Reifer what the deal was with all the covered  cars in his neighborhood. They seem to sprout up rather repeatedly. I didn't think there were any around here. Wrong again.

The wife and I were recently out trying to complete another section of the Rivanna Trail that in concept - if not quite in actuality at this point - rings Charlottesville. Being not particularly dedicated to this "project," we've been at it for several years now. The section we traversed lastly was more roadway than trail. Lo and behold - you start looking for them, and they're everywhere, at least around town.

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And unconsciously, I've got them all heading in the same direction...

a return to normalcy

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After a rather harrowing two days of head congestion, parts of which time was spent driving east through the flatlands, we arrived in our state's most populous region. We were far from the only ones visiting the beach in April, but an evening stroll on the "boardwalk" was a pleasant affair that included only a few others.

The next morning, after the free breakfast - during which an inordinate number of individuals exhibited incredible patience to brave the waffle experience - far more people were out taking in the air and the views. The weather had improved over the previous day's as well...

I won't deny that we've contributed to the commercialization of this area. We stayed in a new hotel with the ocean nearly at our feet. The hotels do a fine job of blocking the view - unless you are willing to pay the tariff, and become part of their clientele.

My other pet peeve? City vehicles driving on the beach, driving on the boardwalk, driving everywhere pedestrians should have exclusive access. Another reason it's hard to consider this thoroughfare a boardwalk.

a week, already

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No excuses really, but there seem to be other concerns lately. I've fallen off the treadmill of posting and reading out there on the world wide wasteage, the ultimate black hole of time.

Here's something from last week from nosing around the neighborhood while waiting for CLW during dance class. It may eventually show up on Google Earth south of CHO - those are landing lights/strobes in the bgrnd.

the scary mind

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After an extremely rough tech rehearsal Thursday evening for the annual Spirit Walk, and a loud and scary start Friday, I eventually settled down into a much more natural performance style that included more gesture and less bluster. This may not be exactly what Custer embodied, but how is anyone to know for sure? With smaller groups I'm finding I can tone it down and tell more story with complete confidence. The text is in there, I know the words and all the variations possible on the words that have been chosen, so all I have to do is relax enough to let them out. There is this perhaps irrational belief in the power of words that propels me to order them exactly as written on the page. It's more attention to detail while striving for perfection. I've spent a fair amount of time choosing the words while writing the script - as presumably all writers do - so as a performer I want to recite those lines word for word out of respect for the effort the writer expended.

But the performer inevitably finds gaps in the writing that need to be covered. And I'm getting comfortable enough that an additional word here and there for clarification purposes adds to the natural flow. Along with an occasional swapping around of words throughout the text doesn't totally destroy my concentration.

Probably the more amazing effect, which of course is the reason why people perform "on stage" in the first place, is the transportation effect. During one of the interviews in the excellent 2008 Scorsese film Shine A Light, Keith Richards speaks about getting into a state where he feels he's floating several feet above the stage while playing. At other times he can play things that amaze his conscious mind. In a similar vein, there are times while reciting lines that I'm observing being observed by audience members, wondering what they are thinking about the performance, assessing how it could be modulated for greater effect, as well as wondering about their judgement of the historical accuracy of the text, all in the split seconds between the utterance out loud of the prepared text. This truly is multi-tasking, or surely as close to it as I'm likely to achieve.

There is a photographic analogue. One makes instantaneous decisions about technical details while trying to determine the meaning and context of a particular image, whether viewing prints in a book or especially while on location with a camera: the thousand stimuli that are present in the natural world must be sifted and selected. When we really get in the photographic zone, we are definitively multi-tasking.

an image

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Same location - some time later.

we might be green!

Feeling oh so very righteous about our recent train trip on Amtrak, I decided to look into what the media sources have to say about what's going on with this federally subsidized entity. While ridership on the railroad is up nearly 14% for July of 2008, probably due mostly to increased fuel costs for auto travel, and certain routes on certain dates are sold out, it's obvious that Amtrak is struggling to keep up service and on time records. In fact, they don't really want any more riders. The equipment in use is often 30 years old, and on some routes is already filled. Our travels between Charlottesville and Washington led us to believe the Crescent is well used and nearly full of passengers. But what happens to the ridership as the train heads into North and South Carolina?

It was the leg between Albany and Montreal that was the most problematic in terms of efficiency and time savings. The Transportation Energy Databook shows that Btu's per passenger mile for autos is 3512, and for Amtrak it is 2650. But this is over the entire system, and the Adirondack would have to be far from one of the more efficient routes. The roadbed north of Saratoga is pretty worn, limited to a single track that must be shared with freight. Add in the two hour + customs delay each way at Rousses Point for the border crossing between the U.S. and Canada, and the frustration level rises along with the inefficiency.

All of which still doesn't negate the carefree feeling of traveling without a car - or should I say carfree feeling of traveling without care? By it's nature this sort of travel necessitates that one visit larger, more populous destinations. To an extent this is fine. But I think we may be souring on travel to large and mid sized cities where trains are located. It was certainly a pleasant alternative to be able to go away for a week and not be concerned with driving, parking, fueling. (Although it must be confessed that we took advantage of Mark Hobson's offer of a free car and a house while visiting in the Adirondacks.) Having not been to any of the stops before - other than Manhattan island - we were perfectly satisfied with the range we were able to reach on foot and via buses and metros.

But the train... I keep coming back to trying to describe the train experience, for I think that's what this entry was really supposed to be about. There is no question that long distance train travel beats flying or driving in a car or a bus. It may not be inexpensive. But most likely the true costs of the other three modes are not really calculated into the fare. Well, trains probably aren't either. Even at the prices charged, the system still needs annual governmental support. The ability to move about the train while traveling through the landscape is surely the most attractive feature of this mode of transportation. The seats and legroom are larger than the other three modes. Add in the ability to bring electronic devices for computing and watching movies or teevee and listening to music to the traditional diversions of reading and sleeping (for some individuals - I always get a sore neck when trying to sleep sitting up), and there is usually plenty to keep you occupied for several hours. Beyond that, when approaching six or seven hours, the confinement factor begins to be a group malaise. Everybody wants to get out of there, and shows it with the endless pacing back and forth to the cafe car and the restrooms.

So what the hell has this got to do with photography? Not much, but here are a few snaps from our train experience. (Click the lead image twice to start a slide show.) I'll try to get more material together in the coming week.

some travels north - and a return

TAKE 2:

We've traveled far and wide, and landed back in pretty much the same place we departed from. Fancy that...

The farthest we journeyed was Montreal, yet another big city. I think we've had about enough of them for a while. Not knowing it very well, it seemed we were destined to experience the tourist attractions and hordes. As in the Biodome, a location that we probably should have skipped, but managed to attend along with several thousand parents and their baby strollers.

Our hotel, the Auberge du Vieux Port, is in a great location in the old part of the city, and the people there are wonderful. But my heart sank when Frederick took us out the back door, along Rue St. Paul to Rue St. Gabriel, and I saw the tee shirt shoppes.

The more fabulous sight was the Atwater market, a large city block of permanent shops, primarily food, with the fruit and vegetable vendors on the perimeter of the building under movable tarps, and the butchers and cheese and bakeries on the inside under a solid roof. A beautiful location that is largely for the locals and remains undiscovered by the touristas.

One of our more remarkable visits was with Landscapist Mark Hobson in Au Sable Forks, N.Y. He was generous enough to lend us the use of his house (while he and his family were away in North Jersey for a wedding) and a car. Fortunately Mark was able to return in time for us to have a personal encounter, after nearly two years of comments and contributions to his blog. We spent an afternoon and an evening that concluded late, and part of the following day in conversation about family and photography. Such generosity, which included complimentary passes to Lake Placid events courtesy of Aaron Hobson, surely deserves special mention.

Somewhat reluctantly, I reacquainted myself with the Mamiya 7II kit that has sat on the shelf for most of the past year. CLW and I have worked with it recently to come up with our annual photo/birthday gift. But I was hesitant to travel again with this camera because I've become so accustomed to working with the two 4 x 5's that are my usual tools. Getting on and off the train multiple times in ten days was what convinced me that the 7II was ultimately the camera to take, and I'm happy that I did. It's interesting that the use of the large format has taught me how to work faster with a smaller camera. This trip, although I carried a tripod, it wasn't necessary much of the time, now that I've learned from the 4 x 5 how to maximize on DOF. I'm not quite certain why I was always shooting at f/22 when using the Mamiya. It's certainly not necessary. So all the work that I did while travelling through Manhattan was done sans tripod. As a rangefinder tool, it's the perfect medium format camera to use off the tripod. With the use of a new (to me) emulsion for some of the exposures - Portra 400 - I was always able to work in the f/8-11 range. Some of this material should appear here during the coming weeks as I work my way through the ten rolls of 120 film.

time for another change

Perhaps a word or two or three about the change of status in regards to the display of prints at Old Rag Photography Gallery in Sperryville, VA. I retrieved all the prints from the gallery Jan. 20. The word is that the gallery is going to be painted - which it needs to be. But there is so little attention given to the enterprise by its owner that there is hardly any point in being there. It was more exposure for physical prints than I receive any other way, but the company kept there did not exactly enhance my aesthetic. Quite simply, there was too much mediocre pleasantly pretty work. My direction has changed as well, moving away from pretty pictures of the wilderness with no traces of humanity anywhere.

It's time to re-evaluate the entire desire to display and sell prints. 

33-2-go

 

 
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A day of rather great variety, and many miles. But only two counties yielded exposures of courthouses: Grayson and Wythe. By the time I got to Pulaski, the sun was fully filling the sky, and for the newer facade, it would have been right above the building. The entrance to the older building is 180 degrees from that, so would have been fine except for the abundance of direct sun falling on that elevation. Grayson is questionable, since it was fairly bright there this morning as well, but I couldn't wait the entire day to find out if the light was going to change.

After all these many miles, what do I have to show for it mentally? Not much, that's for certain. A couple of miserable calculations, but nearly no thought given to the project at hand. I'm collecting data at this point. What anyone eventually does with it is beyond me for now. 

can we change?

 

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With probably thirty-six or thirty-seven more courthouses to chase down, it feels like there is a possible end to the driving the back roads of Virginia. Probably not this year, but possibly '09  will see some kind of completion. Finality is a scary thing. There will be the inevitable reshoots of places such as Sunday's encounter with Prince George County.

The day started clear, which was not expected, and I was facing into the sun with it right above the roof of the new court house building. Gave that one up and went a short distance away to work on the older building. It became apparent that it's been a while since I've used the Sinar. It took a while to set up, then I realized the first exposure was aligned incorrectly, the second was still too low, and when I've gotten all exposures for the day back, I see that with the third exposure that my centerlines are aligned, but the rear should have been shifted to the right to include all of one of the peripheral buildings, and exclude the extra space at the left.

What I'm finding, and finding interesting as well, is that specifics such as this are slowly evolving and changing. As I get better with the material, when I'm presented with more unusual symmetry, it's possible to stay basically true to the dead on alignment with the tripod set directly in front of the primary entrance. But the lens can be shifted slightly one way or the other to include ancillary structures.

This worked out quite well in Southampton County where I was able to include the old and the new entrances from one camera position.

Multiple exposure stitches have also worked successfully for structures too large in locations where the camera could not be moved far enough away to include the entire building.

None of this was planned at the outset as I learn what works. The methodology needs to be allowed to evolve. The project was always the goal, not the end product of having the collection. It was to learn along the way. 

Update on Friday, January 18, 2008 at 02:38PM by KMW

What this ultimately means for me is that I need to pay more attention to what I'm doing. Be less mechanical in my approach to the subject. Too often I'm banging through the steps to get another notch on the gunstock, and move on to the next victim (county). After all, this is supposed to be an Art project, not simply a documentation or a trophy hunt.

to the city, pt.1

Nighthawks, 1942, The Art Institute of Chicago

The family trip to Washington was focused on a stop at the National Gallery of Art, where several shows of some distinction continue through most of January. The first exhibit we attended was a fairly large collection of paintings and watercolors of American artist Edward Hopper. A grand showing of work from one of this nation's greatest painters of the 20th century, heavily attended on a midweek afternoon between Christmas and New Year's.

I've never studied his work before, so it was illuminating to see the depth of his modernism. While he turned his back on both the work of the French Impressionists and other Modernists early in the century, and then again in the middle of the century when Abstract Expressionists ruled the Art World, his compositions and subject matter predate the coming tidal wave of photographic images later in the century. Many of his images have become truly iconic in the pop culture of the present day, Nighthawks being the best known. Years earlier he showed his interest in capturing the color of light falling on the geometric planes of rural farmhouses and barns from Massachusetts and Maine. He would go to seaside resorts that often attracted other painters, and instead of showing ships and the harbor, he concentrated on simple buildings and the land they sat on. Always a realist, Hopper never idealized his landscapes: power poles and other signs of the modern world appear in nearly all these paintings. He was always able to show the beauty in the commonplace, directing our gaze towards  scenes of mystery in everyday life.

Hopper is better known to many of us for his city scapes, such as Nighthawks and New York Movie, Office at Night, Morning Sun, and Chop Suey. Despite the apparent loneliness of his paintings, there is a strong universality to the common stares into space by the silent individuals. It is a recognition that despite the noise and busyness of the urban environment, everyone is ultimately alone with their self and their thoughts. Towards the end of his life, Hopper showed it clearly when he dispensed with the human element and simply painted light on the walls in Sun in an Empty Room.