Gazers

If you gaze out your window tonight, you'll see the Super Harvest Moon. It's a rare event when the autumnal equinox coincides with a full moon. I took this picture last evening while outdoors at dusk after photographing Monarch butterflies at Cupsoque Beach in Westhampton Dunes---to be posted soon.

Satisfied with the expedition, a friend and I were headed for the parking lot about to leave when I looked up and saw the moon hanging over the dunes. It was so vibrant I could actually see the man in the moon.

Immediately I thought of Serge Gal, director of Image Ouverte, a photography school in the South of France, someone who shared his passion for photography with me and many others. Serge passed away this past August. He spent his life helping others learn how to see. Today he would have been sixty years old.

Holy

In observance of Yom Kippur, this seemed like the right image to post today. Although I don't go to synagogue like I did in my youth and find other ways to connect spiritually, this highest of Jewish holy days still weighs on me. Marked as the day to atone for our sins and memorialize the dead, I still try to fast, but usually don't make it to sundown.

Interesting how this sad day falls in September, the most beautiful time of year here on the East End. The water has warmed, the air has turned crisp, and the ski seems bluer. As I walked along the beach in Westhampton the other day, I took pictures observing all three. But then I came upon this black rock that had washed up on shore and was shimmering in the sand, soft to the touch, filled with pores. I leaned in close, was again captivated by all the nooks and crannies.

Gazing at it now, I wonder if those are my sins or the people I have lost. Whatever the case, it's definitely holy...

Peach

Peach is one of my favorite colors. While most houses here on the East End are painted grey or tan, mine is painted a pale peach. And my living room which I redecorated about two years ago is covered in a more vibrant shade of that hue. After a few trips to Mexico, I was inspired to brighten up the long, wet winters here by the shore with some color from the tropics.

So when I was walking my dog last weekend and spotted this splash of peach, I stopped and sank down to my heels trying to get as close as possible with my camera. Within a few moments, I was lost in the color and texture; the nooks and crannies grew more interesting to my eye than the object as a whole.

While I usually specify exactly where I unearth my images, I'd like to leave this one up to your imagination. Leave a comment below telling me what you think it is and where it was discovered...

Leaving

While I try not to use this blog to showcase my family, I couldn't resist posting this image. Here's my younger daughter, Jaclyn, (my baby) at the airport a few days ago, about to leave for her semester abroad in Barcelona. Excited yet clearly apprehensive, she clutched her wallet and her rollie in the middle of the terminal just after checking her other two bags.

When I raised my camera, she covered her face and screamed, "Noooo, Mom, it's so embarrassing!"

"Come on, let me take just a few."

"Ok," she sighed and looked away."

At first I thought this image so aptly epitomized the moment. But maybe, it just mirrors the mixed emotions of the photographer who happens to be her mother. Even though separating has gotten easier, I must keep reminding myself that she's twenty years old not twenty months. Which raises an interesting question about portraiture.

Where do we leave off and they begin? Are we portraying how they feel at a given moment or how we feel about them?

For me, it's a dance of give and take, just like any relationship.

Engaged

With an autumn chill in the air this morning, I chose this image today, the official last day of the summer, hoping that the season will continue well into September.

Last week I met friends at Meschutt Beach, a narrow strip of sand on the Peconic Bay, where young families gather to enjoy the seaside. On Friday evenings, a band plays while adults munch on fried food and their children swim safely in the calm water.

As my girlfriend and I talked about our busy week, I had one eye on the kids running in and out and splashing about. Now that my daughters are in their twenties, it had been years since I had sat in that spot savoring the sight.

"Excuse me," I said to her in mid-sentence, "I have to go get my camera." Luckily, I had stashed it in my car, but left it there in hopes that I could just sit back and relax. Returning to my beach chair ten minutes later, I switched to my long lens and started shooting.

Quickly I focused on this group who had been seriously hunting for crabs since I had sat down. Because I like to engage with my subjects and capture their expressions, it's rare that I opt for a telephoto lens and shoot from behind. But in this instance, facial features were not required; their stance and the evening light warming their skin tells us everything we need to know.

Twofer

One of the first things I learned when I began to take photography seriously was that you have to take a lot of pictures in order to get one photograph. Years ago while in a workshop with Joyce Tenneson, who is now a renown art/fashion photographer, she said that if you find one good image on a roll of film with 36 frames, you're doing well.

After discovering the couple under the red umbrella that I posted last week, I was surprised, therefore, to find another captivating pair on a patch of sand adjacent to that same pier that afternoon. Spread out on their backs, scores of horseshoe crabs lay there glistening in the sun, their golden color so different from the steel gray, much larger specimens I had seen on that beach before.

"Look at the color!" I immediately blurted to my student.

"What happened, why are they all dead?" she asked.

"I have no idea," I said, "I've never seen this variety here; bigger, darker ones come here to spawn in the spring." Maybe it has something to do with climate change, I thought.

Lifting our cameras, we moved in close and started shooting. I was immediately drawn to this mother and her baby, cuddled together, soaking up the sun, perhaps hoping it would bring them back to life. The baby appeared to be smiling, maybe just happy to be close to its mother until the very end.

Seurat

Continuing my study of couples--a series that seems to be newly developing this summer--I was inspired to post this image taken a few weeks ago. When a student and I took a walk down to the town boat launch around the corner from my home, we immediately spotted the red umbrella and moved closer. I was excited to discover such a vibrant focal point amidst the panorama. Although it's quite dramatic and constantly changing depending on time of day and year, the wide open space that I pass by each day is difficult to photograph.

Lifting our cameras, I instructed her to play with the composition by deciding where to place the object (and therefore, the couple) in the frame. As she did so, I followed suite.

Afterwards, when reviewing the images, I was enchanted to find this one reminiscent of George Seurat's famous painting, A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte. I'm always amazed at how the French Impressionists influence my work and contemporary art in general .

To enhance its painterly effect, I can't wait to see how the photograph looks when I print it on watercolor paper.

Comfortable

At the reception for the Westhampton Artists Studio Tour on Friday evening which took place at the Full Moon Arts Center in East Moriches, I spent some time photographing kids, couples, and families in a treehouse overlooking a huge tent--where the artwork of about 50 artists (including me) was on display.

Mission accomplished, I was anxious to join the party that was winding down below. Coming down the steps, I spotted this couple nestled in a hammock. The light on their hats, the tilt of their heads, their comfort with one another warmed my heart. Scurrying toward them from behind, I tried to get close without intruding. But when I arrived, I found it difficult to focus on their faces due to a lack of light and the high contrast in the background.

Fiddling with my camera, I motioned to them announcing my intention and ultimately opted to use my flash for some fill. Luckily, they remained comfortable and continued to enjoy themselves and each other.

Spinning

"My head is spinning." How many times have you heard that? I know I've uttered those words aloud and to myself quite often. Especially these days when we're texting, talking, driving, working, all at the same time. Multi-tasking, it's the mantra of our times. I wouldn't be surprised if the Earth's rotation has picked up speed.

So a few weeks ago for the final session of a kids workshop, we spent time experimenting with motion. After showing the group of 11-year olds one of my Manhattan images of a man leaping in Times Square that I call Billy Elliot, we stepped outside of Amy's Ark Studio in Westhampton. The girls ran directly up a hill toward a swing tethered to a tree. One jumped on and started spinning like a top.
As her long brown hair swirled around her, the rest of us started shooting, trying to freeze her in the frame as she spun by. Not easy since she was moving so fast. To exaggerate the blur and create a moire effect, I chose an extremely slow shutter speed--1/8 second.

"Just keep shooting," I encouraged them. That's the beauty of digital technology, no wasted film; you can keep going until you get a good one. And that's exactly what I did; of the twenty frames expended, I was satisfied with just this one.

So, don't be shy, keep shooting. But don't forget to edit by deleting all the bad ones from your memory card so you're ready to go next time.

If you're in the area this weekend, you can see this image on view during the Westhampton Artists Studio Tour at Amy's Ark Studio & Farm where I will be displaying a new series of prints from this blog called Texture. Call 288-1954x241 for tickets.

Reading Room

As we enter the dog days of August, the lazy days, when all I want to do is sit under a tree and read a book, I thought it fitting to post this image taken in Manhattan. Having just emerged from the Metropolitan Museum of Art where I saw the Picasso show with a friend, we headed into Central Park with our cameras.

Around 5:30pm, the sun skimmed low producing long shadows and dramatic afternoon light. While these conditions appeal to the naked eye, the high contrast can be quite blinding and difficult to render through the lens. Therefore, it's important to come up with an average light reading between the darker and lighter spots. While it's best to have a hand-held meter, you can compensate by bracketing, which means shooting the same image three times: first according to your automatic reading, then over and underexpose by one stop on the manual setting. Some digital cameras offer a compensation button which makes this simple. Later you can decide which one is most pleasing to your eye.

Strong light also requires a strong composition. As I moved closer and closer to the subject, I realized that I could use the limbs of the tree to create structure. In effect, they separate the light from the dark green and frame the girl off to the left in her own reading room.