Divide

Here's yet another of my classic beachscapes that I'm writing about for the first time. Like the others, it was taken just after sunset---but at Cupsogue Beach County Park at the end of Weshampton Dunes. Notice how the red fence stands out against the green grass and blue sky. Perfect complements further enriched by the last few moments of twilight. 

It's rare to find a moment of universal harmony like this---the reason why it seems to be a perennial favorite. I've saved it for the last month of summer so I can savor it through the end of the season....always a bit melancholy no matter how long I've lived here on the East End.

Go to my other blog, Recovery Thru The Lens, to read a more personal rendition of this image.

Twilight

Here's another summer classic taken on the North Fork. One aspect of many of these landscapes is that they are taken just after the sun dips below the horizon. During those few twilight moments, the colors saturate and the earth glows pink and purple.

What stikes me most about this image is that the beach plums, usually hot pink, are white and appear to be praying at the waterside. I've written a poem called Whisper to accompany this image that you can read on Recovery Thru My Lens....enjoy!

Wonderland

Sorry to have missed a week of posting here. Here's one of my classic images taken several years back that I usually call Pink Sound but today I'm calling it Wonderland as a tribute to the East End where I've lived for almost 25 years.

As a photographer, I'm so grateful to this part of the world for its breathtaking beaches, intricate land formations and most of all, wonderful light. Sometimes I long for the city streets where there's so much action and so many faces to feast on, but then I picture images like this and remember why I'm here.

To read a more personal take on this image, visit Recovery Thru My Lens.

Signs

This summer many of my posts seem to revolve around the weather. Maybe it's because it's been so unusual, so volatile this year. Maybe it has to do with climate change or our unpredictable economy, but most likely it has to do with my changing perspective.
Since creating my newest blog, Recovery Thru My Lens, I've grown even more connected to the natural world that has always provided so much to see. But now I'm seeing it in a more personal way as signs of what's to come.
While attending a meeting during a torrential storm a few nights ago, there was an eerie yellow light filling the doorway during the break.
"Look, it's a rainbow," someone shrieked.
And indeed, there it was arching over the church next door.
In the middle of a very stressful week, it was the sign I needed most.
To see a more poetic rendition go to Renew...

Magic

No matter how long I take photographs, it's magic never ceases to amaze me. When I finally succumbed and bought a digital SLR camera in 2008, I started to experiment with it by photographing the sky. At that time, I was envisioning a collage about climate change that would require many small images; so I thought it was a perfect application for the camera which offered endless frames, easily deleted unlike the more cumbersome, expensive film process.

That project has not yet materialized, however four years later, I have rediscovered this series and they are resonating with me much more now than when I originally created them. It reminds me that when we feel the urge to photograph something, we must take action even if we're not quite sure why we're doing it or where it might lead. 

So far, two of these images have inspired me emotionally on my more personal blog, Recovery Thru My Lens. Take a look at Help and Bliss to see how....

Island

On a recent trip to the North Fork just before Orient, I noticed this island floating in the Long Island Sound. Since I've been surrounded by water here on the East End for the last 20+ years, it takes something remarkable for me to shoot an image like this these days.

Amidst all the development taking place here, I was struck by the emptiness of this stretch of sea, sand and sky. It seemed that this could be an island floating almost anywhere in the world; in the Caribbean, the Mediterranean or even off the coast of Africa or in the South Pacific---although the sea might not be as calm. And because it's reminiscent of a simpler time, I transferred it to black and white with a hint of amber for nostalia...
For a poetic rendition of this image, visit Recovery Thru My Lens!

Girls

As the mother of two daughters, I couldn't resist this group convening before a T-ball game at my grandsons birthday party earlier this month. As the boys on the Blue team chased one another around the field, the girls on the Red team congregated in the field for some instruction. 

And as my husband dispelled some baseball basics, I couldn't help but notice how they listened so intently with their distinct personalities stamped on their faces and displayed by their statures.

How did the notion evolve that nurture can trump nature when it comes to the difference between the sexes?

Visit Recovery Thru My Lens for a more lyrical perspective.

Cycles

The first step in taking good photographs is becoming your own best scout.
Here's what I call my signature image; the one I have printed on my business card. Taken seven years ago, I have never written about it although I've told the story of how I scouted it out many times.
That week in June, my younger daughter was suffering from stomach pain. After a day or so, we took her to the hospital and they finally diagnosed her with appendicitis. With surgery scheduled for the next morning, we went out for dinner passing this field just after the sun had dipped below the horizon when I witnessed this wonderful sight. Alas...I didn't have a camera with me.
The following evening after a successful operation, I rushed home collected my medium format film camera and returned there at the same time of evening. Standing in the mud in my white sandals, I captured this image now called Water Cycle.
For a poetic rendition of this image, visit Recovery Thru My Lens!

Spontaneity

For me, spontaneity is the key to a good portrait. I've never been particularly good at posing people. And even when I try, they're uncomfortable and too conscious of the camera to allow their true selves to emerge.

Here's a prime example. Last Saturday I crammed my grandson's new bike, his birthday present, into my back seat of my Honda Insight where it barely fit. Then, I proceeded to his party held around the block at our village park. I had hoped that he would be playing in the field or otherwise occupied when I arrived so he wouldn't see the handle bar jutting out of the window.

However, they pulled up right beside my car when we arrived at the same time. He jumped out and peered through the window. Luckily, my camera was resting on the passenger seat and I had the presence of mind to pick it up.
For a more poetic rendition, visit Recovery Thru My Lens!

Imperfect

On a drizzly spring day a few weeks ago, I was fortunate to be invited for lunch at my friend Ellen's home. It's always a treat to receive that particular invitation because Ellen is a private chef. Spontaneously, she can throw together a meal from whatever she finds in her fridge and garden that's more scrumptous than any restaurant around.

Beyond the wonderful fish chowder and deer tongue lettuce sprinkled with chive flowers, I was delighted by what lay on the table. Longing to photograph the two pears bathed in natural light, I chided myself for not bringing my camera. But there, beside my napkin lay my iPhone. Dare I stoop to that level, become just another iPhone shooter.
You have no choice, I told myself pressing the silly "app." Although one pear is marred, the rooster's head is cut off and the file is half the size of my Canon's digital capability, I couldn't get this image out of my head. To read a more lyrical rendition of this post, visit Recovery Thru My Lens.