Walk in the park

Spring is rapidly remaking the landscape here; each day the trees and bushes look fuller and more green.  Almost as if the plants have a schedule to keep regardless of the temperature and cloud cover.  Been out in the surrounding neighborhoods a lot looking at houses for relocation and each weekend drive is a new experience.  After several years on the Plains it’s good to see forests, marshes and lakes again.

Not that spring is a season we have to wait on.  There are a couple of very nice botanical gardens in Milwaukee, one of which has three glass domes housing different ecosystems.  The Domes at Mitchell park are visible from the city across the valley, beckoning the driver to wander over if only to see what the odd protrusions are sticking out above the trees.  You can wander through desert, jungle and show garden by simply walking from one dome to the other.  Great opportunity for different photography challenges.

I found the shapes most compelling during this trip, although there was a little color I couldn’t pass up.

Slowly the seasons creep in

For a couple of days it really seemed that spring was here to stay.  Visited a local park over my Lake Michigan after work to enjoy the nearly 80 degree weather and found it teeming with playing kids, biking enthusiasts and people just strolling around in shorts.  Most of the lakeshore south of Milwaukee is parkland and I imagine it gets well used when the weather is nice.  Great to see the water’s edge hasn’t been completely boxed out by narrow-gauge subdivisions.

Nature believes the seasonal change is upon us even if there are days we’re wearing heavy coats.  The forest floor was littered with little yellow flowers that apparently popped up in just a couple of days because they weren’t there earlier in the week.  Don’t know what they are – perhaps someone out there can identify them?

Walking around the park I noticed there must have been quite a bit of damage from storms this winter as several trees were blown over and had been cut off the trail.  I took advantage of this to continue my without-a-good-reason photo series of tree rings.

The park seems to have been around for quite a while – I’d guess it dates back to the early 1900′s.  The trails are paved with flagstones and where they circle around the hills there are stone walls lining the cuts made for the trails.  I really liked the way the sun was coming through the still leaf-less trees and weaving a shadow web across the trail.  Felt almost medieval, like a lost castle in the deep woods.

All of these images were made with my recently purchased Olympus film lens, the 35-80mm f/2.8.  Unlike the new digital lenses that have been designed from the blank page to optimally cast light onto a digital sensor, this lens was created to put a circle of light on a flat piece of film.  It’s hard to describe but the resulting image almost has a film-like quality to it.  Perhaps I’m simply dreaming and romanticizing what I want it to look like but I’m finding my compositions are slightly different using this lens, and that has me seeing things different as well.

A walk interrupted, intentionally

ISO 100, 78mm, 1/1000 sec., f/2

Stare at enough scenes of the American southwest and you begin to think the world is composed of irregularly shaped, warm color landscapes.  And maybe much of it is.  But this is not Arizona or New Mexico or southern Utah – this is a fallen tree trunk being lit by the afternoon sun.  I liked how the surface texture, seen up close, resembled the terrain captured in hundreds of images from out west.  Much as a universe exists in a raindrop there is a world just around our feet if we take the time to look for it.

 

ISO 100, 50mm, 1/80 sec., f/8

Sometimes around our feet can be measured in hundreds of yards.  For this scene I’m standing on a very tall bluff overlooking Lake Michigan, just south of Milwaukee.  I liked the curvature of the beach leading to the groins that suddenly recede in linear fashion around the point of land.  And between each groin is a small curve of beach depositing by the lake as it tries to wash Wisconsin’s shoreline toward Chicago.  The waves give me a nice texture in the water’s surface and some breakers against the narrow pebbly ledge beneath the bluffs.

Both images made while just walking around, no particular scene in mind.  It’s one reason I enjoy being an outdoor photographer.  Your pressure is not other people’s time or the urgency of an event’s frantic action, but rather a sense of light and openness to what you see and what it can become in the viewfinder.

The shape of things fluid

While living around the Monterey peninsula biking along the coast was a favorite way to see the landscape and enjoy the area.  One defining memory of gliding along the shoreline was the roar and rush of waves as the Pacific attacked the rocky edge of the coast.  With some large, pounding breakers and some gradual, lapping curves the ocean is eating away at the central California coast, turning it into sand that is deposited on the beaches of southern California.  This process is far too slow to observe but the sounds associated with it are memorable, at times outstripping the human noise up and down the road running alongside.  The brief pause as the water gathers itself, the rushing anticipation as the wave glides toward the shore, the “woomph” of the crash as liquid weight breaks against the solid rocks and the hissing as the sand and pebbles relinquish the water to return for the next assault.

I’ve never been a beach person, never understood the appeal of the sand, sunlight, lapping water and smell of suntan lotion.  But the Pacific at Monterey is not a beach person’s seaside.  It is not friendly to those who wish to languish by the water’s edge.  It intimidates and challenges, daring the venturesome to approach and test it.  Only the hardy dare get close (except for the sea otters, who laugh at the ocean as they go about their daily chore of abalone gathering or the pelicans who glide effortlessly along the wave fronts using the ground effect to swiftly carry them from one fishing ground to another).  But the less hardy can appreciate the sound as it rolls from the water up onto the ground to envelope any who pause to take notice.

Several years on the Great Plains and I still miss that sound.

And now I’m moving to those inland oceans, the Great Lakes.  And I’m finding that sound again, renewing my connection with the waters of the country.  No, nothing like the pounding Pacific but nonetheless the same effect of anticipation, rush, crash and hiss.

Won’t ever be a beach person but I can still enjoy the sounds.

ISO 100, 35mm, 1/800 sec., f/2.8

ISO 100, 14mm, 1/1000 sec., f/2.8

ISO 100, 35mm, 1/500 sec., f/2.8

That new landscape

ISO 100, 16mm, 1/500 sec. f/9

Out and about today exploring the area and came across this scene.  I hear there’s one of these in Nebraska but not next to the body of water I’m standing in front of to make this image.  Wind Point lighthouse is on the shore of Lake Michigan just north of Racine, Wisconsin, placed there to guide shipping down the coast to the port of Racine.  I was fortunate to get some very cooperative clouds and sunlight for this.  A little perspective adjustment in Photoshop and I’ve got a Great Lakes postcard.

And no, I didn’t copy the photo on the Wikipedia site – it’s just a very popular perspective to make this image….

Well, must be spring out there somewhere….

Ever waited for something you knew had to happen just about any minute now?  It’s the sense I get from this cardinal – where’s that darn spring?

This is my 501st posting, appropriately the first from Wisconsin where I’ll be permanently resettling this year.  Only just started driving around a bit; haven’t pulled my camera out yet.  It takes me a bit to get used to a new location since I want to see the whole place first before getting down to the details.  Based on a couple of maps and books I’ve bought there won’t be a lack of interesting landscapes and wildlife to photograph so I’m looking forward to the adventure.

Now if only the flowers and greenery would show up…….

 

 

Moving on

Not that you’re waiting with baited breath for my posts but I did want to explain the seemingly empty time of late on this blog.  I am in the process of starting a new job and moving to a new location.  The corporate career I fled from into photography was more a reaction to “corporate” than to field, which is food, and I kept thinking there might be further opportunities in the field where I could make a difference.  Recently I was approached about an interesting position with a small, growing company and after talking with them I realized it was a position I wanted, and fortunately for me, they wanted me in it.  So here I am in the midst of another moving adventure, learning about another part of the country.  This time it’s Wisconsin.

I am looking forward to new landscapes here around the Great Lakes.  Just driving around I’m seeing so many differences from the Great Plains.  Trees, for example, and water in big and small bodies.  Rolling hills more so than I found around eastern Nebraska.  Glancing at a map of Wisconsin I see how much the terrain varies across the state, the result of glaciers and geology.  It’s going to be fun, re-acquainting myself with the more limited view of the landscape I grew up with, and probably missing the expansive vistas of the Nebraska skyline.

Pictures will be coming soon – just getting resettled into a new place.  I’m looking forward to continuing the sharing of what I’m seeing.

Obstacles

ISO100, 35mm, 1/125 sec., f/10

As most of the traditional winter sports require more change in elevation than is typical on the Plains in Nebraska we take advantage of whatever terrain is available.  A local dam works just fine, offering two slopes in one.  Slalom poles are included – courtesy of utility companies.

The world in abstract

Peruse art museums enough and you’ll find yourself wandering through the galleries displaying modern abstracts.  These interpretations of the world through the eyes of artists interested in seeing form but not the content can be interesting, puzzling, compelling, disgusting, confusing and sometimes infantile.  Nonetheless they are usually genuine attempts to portray a world seen by the few in order to enlighten the masses.

Turns out many times you don’t have to visit art galleries or museums.  You can simply seek out what Nature provides as views to an alternative world.  One great place to experience this is Yellowstone, particularly around the geyser basins.  Minerals come up from deep in the earth and provide concentrated colors as they precipitate on the surface.  Microorganisms that thrive on unusual elements pigment their surroundings as if in a display of virility.  Moving water creates paths for expression and form in order to display the changing nature of the planet.

If the abstract artist creates based on a vision unique to their personal perception of the world around them, what are we to make of Nature’s abstracts in the actual world?

ISO 100, 27mm, 1/80 sec., f/9

ISO 100, 14mm, 1/50 sec., f/9

ISO 100, 50mm, 1/320 sec., f/8

ISO 100, 50mm, 1/250 sec., f/8

ISO 100, 35mm, 1/125 sec., f/9

A theme runs through it

Not all of my travel involves photography so I do try and schedule some time on each trip to see the area and learn about it’s photographic potential.  When in cities I enjoy looking at the architecture to see how it fits the city’s reputation or if there is a consistent motif representative of the city’s culture.  Even where there is a mix of old and new buildings if you look closely you can sometimes see how the designers and builders carry forward some iconic aspect of the city.

Salt Lake City is a young urban place, at least by comparison with cities east of the Mississippi.  It is a place that was intended to exist, planned for and designed to be a religious center and home to a wandering people.  Isolated as it was (and still is to some extent) from the influences of other American cities, it developed it’s own flavor and character.  Wandering around the city there remain signs of this if you take the time to look.

Looking south from Ensign Peak

The historical center of the city is Temple Square where the community gathered to practice their religion and from where the commercial aspects of the town grew outward from as the population expanded.  Today it is an oasis in the middle of an urban scene, full of cool grass, colorful flowers and many visitors, all surrounding the iconic buildings on its grounds.

The people who built this city from a settlement were industrious and hard working.  They adopted as their symbol the beehive in acknowledgement of how bees work together to build a community.  The beehive motif is found in many places around the city, including the crown of an office building on the Square.

Other symbols of industrial effort grace various buildings as well, decorations aimed at making a solid statement about the values of the people who grew the city from a desert outpost to a thriving metropolitan community.

But not all decorations were as severe and practical – these are people who appreciate the artistic aspects of their lives as well and proudly display those motifs.

There are even signs of whimsy, scenes contrasting the modern with the playful.

As well as the linear perspective of more modern perspectives.

The most dominant theme, however, is found in the iconic Temple.  Its influence is noticeable throughout the city in both large buildings and intimate details.  It is the theme that runs through the city’s architecture, the one all designers and builders seem to realize has influence on their work.

It’s a fun place to spend some time just walking around and admiring the results of so many people’s efforts.  In America we express our architecture like our personalities – individual, non-conforming, free to explore different aspects – and our cities manifest that expression.  Take some time to look around your home town and see what themes run through it.