Flaming

As Hurricane Sandy heads toward us, I'm wondering how bad it will really be, how much work I should do. For Irene last year, I moved my computer and all my photographs upstairs in case of flooding; and all we got was some wind. Hmmm.....this time they're saying it could be the worst storm ever. This image comes to mind as I wonder whether we'll lose power. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could convert all the leaves flaming outdoors into the energy we might need to cook and read by? Wouldn't that be the ulitimate in sustainability?

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.

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!

Irony

On the heels of my quintessential cherry tree image, I thought this would be an interesting follow-up. Each spring I love the sight of petals dropped like confetti on lawns and roadways; and each spring I try to find a way to photograph these carpets of color. A few weeks ago, I made an attempt with the addition of my Shadow.
Last weekend on my way to my daughter's house, I noticed this swath of pink beside the road and pulled over. Shooting from above, they appeared like unremarkable specks with no real perspective. However when I sunk down to my heels, I found something more compelling.
A first glance it was just a rusty drain; but the more I looked the more I liked the irony it presented. Here were these beautiful bits of nature adorning the sewer made by man that would eventually suck them in.

It's these surprises, these counterpoints that can make an image more meaningful. For a more lyrical rendition of my thoughts regarding this image checkout my other blog, Recovery Thru My Lens.

Cherry

Most photographers avoid midday light at all costs. They shoot either early in the morning or late in the afternoon when the sun is low in the sky, skimming the earth creating dramatic light and long shadows. Between 11 am and 1pm, the sun shines directly down producing dark circles under the eyes and extreme contrast everywhere else. 

However, on occasion it can work to your advantage with the right subject. Here's one of my favorite images taken on the North Fork of Long Island in a place called New Suffolk. One May day I was driving around this charming area scouting for locations when I spotted this vintage truck protected by a canopy of pink. Enchanted, I pulled over and grabbed my medium-format camera (with film). When I stood before the scene, the lacy shadows took me by surprise turning a pretty picture into an interesting one.

Shadow

Sometimes a simple shadow can produce a dramatic image.
I went outside this morning to photograph the forsythia petals I had been looking at out my window for the past week and thinking about how to shoot them--actually to post on my other blog, Recovery Thru My Lens. 

When I finally got out there with my camera, I looked through the viewfinder (yes, I still use it), saw my shadow and started to move out of the way. Then I envisioned some dynamic images that my friend, Robyn has been posting on her blog, Through the Healing Lens, that she calls Pain Shadow, and stayed put.

Here is the result. When I reviewed the 10 frames taken, I found this one most interesting; how it appears like I'm attached to the tree and how the greatest concentration of petals fall within the outline of my head and arm supporting the camera.

Coincidence or not, you tell me?

Spring

Sometimes the best pictures can be found right around the corner. This image, my quintessential Spring photograph, was taken five years ago as I was travelling home along a stretch of road where by some miracle the farmland has been preserved and the one or two farmers left have not sold out to Hamptons developers. So each Spring I marvel at this pristine sight as the pastels emerge.

Taken with my medium-format camera, it's a good example of how film captures the subtleties and nuances of color and detail rendering a warmth and richness that's beyond digital technology. Now, that's my opinion...

And checkout my second blog--Recovery Thru My Lens--launched last week, that's more personal and inspirational, where I compose a brief poem for each image. Right now it's featuring the same one which may occur sometimes, sometimes not---I haven't quite decided since it's still a work in progress. So if you are so inspired, you can follow me there too...

Savannah

After more than two weeks on the road, I've returned with about 200 images to edit for my Phantoms series. But before I get down to work, I'm posting this image of the Spanish moss that hangs over Savannah like a veil of protection preserving its history and its unrelenting charm.
Despite the trendy shops and internet cafes scattered about, I was enchanted by the gothic architecture, welcoming verandas, and the city's 22 squares arranged in a simple grid. And it didn't take long before Phantoms began to appear; I soon learned that the city is indeed haunted by thousands buried in mass graves due to two devasting fires in 1796 and 1820 and a yellow fever epidemic around the same time.
Ironically, this image was taken on a bike ride in Bonaventure Cemetery. Built on a plantation just outside the city, it's known as one of the most beautifully haunting in the county.

Accumulation

Just when the foot of snow dumped in my yard last week is starting to melt, they are predicting more for tomorrow. This winter is surely bound to set records for accumulation here on the East End. Imagining how treacherous it's been for commuters over the past few weeks, I feel fortunate that I work from home and can find images, if need be, by just stepping outside and looking around.

After the last storm when the sun finally came out, I tromped around in my back yard looking for something noteworthy. Since I've lived here for almost twenty years, it's quite a challenge to see things anew on my property. But once again I was surprised when I gravitated toward a line of bare lilac branches that hung down under the weight of all that snow.

As I zoomed in close, the ratio between the spindly branches and the amount of snow accumulated there magnified before my eyes. It's a wonder of nature that I doubt I would have noticed without my camera.

Abundance

Something magical happens here during the first few weeks of autumn in a place called Cupsogue Beach County Park that I just became aware of after living on the East End for more than 20 years. As the Monarch butterflies migrate from Canada southward to Mexico each year, they stop there along the way to roost in the pines trees that line the path leading from the parking lot to the inlet.

Last Tuesday my friend, Joy, called inviting me to meet her there at 5:30pm to see the butterflies and "make sure to bring your camera," she insisted. So off I went with my dog, expecting to see a few fluttering around.

As we wandered down the path, I looked up and indeed there they were just as she had promised soaring in circles, dancing with one another, then landing between the pine needles where they perched to soak up the day's last bit of sun. Switching to my long zoom lens, I became mesmerized by the "abundance," a word Joy kept repeating in my ear. Grateful that she had lead me there, I wondered how many more marvels may be unbeknown to me. So for any of you reading these words, do keep me posted when you discover anything I might have missed...