Beaver Lodge and Birches

Beaver Dam Pond in Acadia National Park is a wonderful spot for photography.  Going to black and white mode and using a red filter here we show off the birches and the feathery effect resulting.  A red filter tends to darken greens and blues (water and evergreens) and lightens yellows and reds (October’s showy colors being absorbed by the filter).  But the real magic of this scene was the post storm sun going in and out as it raced along the landscape, highlighting the luminescent whites on the bark.  Got to acknowledge the beavers (though honestly, the lodge I think detracts from this image a bit) — this lodge has been existing on the pond for as long as I have been a witness — probably 20 years passing by on the Loupe Road.  

Quoting from National Geographic beavers are quite amazing, including some things I didn’t know:

"Beavers are famously busy, and they turn their talents to reengineering the landscape as few other animals can. When sites are available, beavers burrow in the banks of rivers and lakes. But they also transform less suitable habitats by building dams. Felling and gnawing trees with their strong teeth and powerful jaws, they create massive log, branch, and mud structures to block streams and turn fields and forests into the large ponds that beavers love. Domelike beaver homes, called lodges, are also constructed of branches and mud. They are often strategically located in the middle of ponds and can only be reached by underwater entrances. These dwellings are home to extended families of monogamous parents, young kits, and the yearlings born the previous spring.  Beavers are among the largest of rodents. They are herbivores and prefer to eat leaves, bark, twigs, roots, and aquatic plants.  These large rodents move with an ungainly waddle on land but are graceful in the water, where they use their large, webbed rear feet like swimming fins, and their paddle-shaped tails like rudders. These attributes allow beavers to swim at speeds of up to five miles (eight kilometers) an hour. They can remain underwater for 15 minutes without surfacing, and have a set of transparent eyelids that function much like goggles. Their fur is naturally oily and waterproof."

Summer's End and Musings about Art

Took this shot on my way out of the last week’s opening reception for the art exhibition at the Gallery in The Park in Ward Pound Ridge Reservation.  It was a cool, dreary and rainy afternoon and the bedraggled butterfly bush looked kind of sad, poking its remaining flowers through the railing on the aging front porch.  Kind of like it was making a last ditch effort for attention.  The image reflected my mood, a bit unsettled by the coming end of summer.

Summer's End

Used a slow shutter speed (a little less than a full second) and purposely jiggled the camera for effect. 

The inclement weather didn’t seem to hold down the attendance at the show however – they were parking the cars in the nearby fields and plenty of shoes were clomping over the old wooden floors and stairs of the Gallery.  Lot of interesting quality paintings, drawings and other media – you could go home with one anywhere from a couple of hundred, up to five thousand, dollars.  The show runs through October.  I have one image there (at the low end of the $ range).

Tell you the truth: some of the most fun for me going to these shows is eavesdropping – about my photograph of course, but for the other works as well.  I probably overheard about a hundred conversations.  Some of you may know my previous work life was in survey research and I know this is not good science protocol.  Who knows if these exhibition visitors are representative of art lovers generally, in any way.  Don't worry, I won't be drawing any big picture conclusions.  Think of it as focus group on art.

My observations: well, half of the conversations I overheard weren't about the art on display.  These were folks enjoying a day out, meeting friends and family and just having a good chat.

t was the other half that intrigued me more.  These were people talking about what the hangings on the wall meant to them.  There were a lot of words passed back and forth describing feelings, impressions, emotions, memories.

I can't tell whether there was some direct connection between what the artist intended and what the viewers received -- way too few samples to have any firm generalizations.  So my subjective conclusion was that the artist must have had his or her reasons for being moved to create the art (my guess is that artists wouldn't be good at describing some logical intent) and the viewer was experiencing some idiosyncratic reaction that moved them emotionally.  And these often were two most likely totally unconnected events.  But there was a connection.

And the thing was that there was a large amount of disagreement.  There was one piece that people almost universally derided, but two folks spent a lot of time viewing, seemingly mesmerized by it. 

I've studied statistics and I've studied psychology and I've studied photographic technique, but I've never had any training in art -- the philosophy of why people do art and why people are drawn to art.  I'm willing to bet there are lots of theories about it but in the end it appears to be just a mysterious emotional connection. 

I would love to hear others' views on this.  You can post a comment at the bottom of this blog.

Waiting for a Waterfall

If you’re into photography you sometimes wind up being a trespasser of sorts.  I mean you spend a lot of time meandering out and about, always with an eye to pleasing visual images.  And sometimes these potential pictures present themselves behind posted signs warning of prosecution for trespass.  Birds or trees or foggy sunrises, or waterfalls, which I’m particularly partial to.  Now in my photographic zeal I have to own up to a few hops over stonewalls, openings of private gates, and bendings of barbed wire.  (I do penance for this by supporting a bunch of natural preservation societies.  A bit of environmental rationalization, I suppose.)

Anyway, one spring morning while expanding my dog-walking venues, I heard some very obvious and pleasant stream sounds, not babbling – more like rushing and gurgling.  A bit further I could just glimpse from the road a coursing stream with many wandering waterfalls.  Couldn’t get a good view but from the sloping topography I knew there’d be some fine cascades.

Well the posted signs were pretty clear that further close-up inspection would not be welcome, but there was an owner address posted.  So once home I sent off a nice letter asking permission to photograph this beautiful property.  Long story short – didn’t hear back from the owner.  And while often passing by this property over time, I never trespassed.

But all good things come in time, they say.  A couple of years after mailing my letter I got an email from the owner asking if I was still interested.  The owner had his own good reasons for the delayed response and in the following spring we finally met and walked the property together.  As I had anticipated the property was magnificent -- like being transported to the heart of the Adirondacks.  The stream and waterfalls were wonderful and I was graciously given permission to photograph as much as I wished.  I’m purposefully not identifying the specific location since nobody wants to encourage trespassers … ;)

This image is one I particularly like. In waterfall parlance this is a segmented waterfall.  (Yes there are specific names for each type, depending upon whether or not the water is a vertical or sloping drop, maintains partial or complete contact with the bedrock, its force, the ratio of width to length, and other characteristics.)

The real fun of photographing waterfalls for me has to do with the texture of the moving water captured by the camera.  I always start with about one half second exposure and adjust to suit that particular composition.  For you camera buffs, start with a low ISO setting and consider using a neutral density filter.

The Eagle was Busy

… this being the 4th of July and all.   So I enlisted this guy or gal (I think a Red-shouldered Hawk -- but I'll wait to hear from some of you birders out there) to help celebrate our great American Holiday.

Good story: I spent the better part of the day in 3 of the parks near me in upper Westchester laden down with  25 lbs of equipment -- big telephoto, 2x extender, tripod, remote trigger.  Nothing, nada, zilch.
 
Pulled into my driveway, stopped to get newspapers and mail and look who's screeching away, 40 yards distant in the neighboring wetlands.  Got off 5 shots hand held braced against the back fender.  [800 mm, 1/50th of second, f13, iso 3200]
 
Full disclosure:  I used a great new app in Photoshop under the sharpening menu, something called "reduce camera shake."  It won't help if the subject moves but for low shutter speed camera movement, quite an improvement.
 
Wishing you the best 4th ever to you all.  

Pileated Woodpecker

Dryocopus pileatus.  AKA the Pileated Woodpecker.  This one, an adult female (because she doesn’t have a red line from bill to throat as the male does), made a visible presence in our backyard very early in the morning a few days ago.  I say visible because she’s been audibly present most of this summer but we’ve never actually caught a glimpse until now.  Many folks believe they are rare but they are not.  That reputation probably comes from the fact that they are quite skittish, as she was.

It was about 6:30 in the morning and I almost felt the vibration on our breakfast table from the drumming noise.  Very loud.  Looked out the back window, saw her about 30 yards away banging away at a not too healthy black birch.  Put the big lens (100-400 mm zoom) on my camera, attached it to the tripod, went very quietly outside.  Soon as I turned the corner — whoosh, big flapping striped wings and she was gone.  Positioned the camera on the deck, aimed at the spot she had been persistently working on (later I saw the shards of wood on the ground) and waited.  Target was in the shade so used a pretty high ISO (film speed) and had time to set the camera to shutter priority (1/80th sec), aperture around 8 to blur the background.  About 20 minutes later she returned and started in on the birch and I started clicking away.  She gave me almost a minute then she was gone, whoosh again.  She hasn’t been back since, though we hear her.  A great moment.

Want to hear her call or the drumming?  check out this site http://birds.audubon.org/birds/pileated-woodpecker

You may also be thinking about Walter Lanz famous cartoon character, Woody the Woodpecker, who had the most obnoxious laugh/call.  Click here to be reminded

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Xan2dkMouM&feature=kp

Lessons Learned in the Field

There are probably a few of you out there who love all the snow we’ve been getting here in Westchester.  But if you’re like me you’ve become a little weary of the cold, the shoveling, the ice, etc.  The average seasonal snowfall for us is supposed to be about 25 inches and we’re more than double that amount right now.

Anyway, with this month more than half way done, it was time for me to go looking for my February image.  So off to Ward Pound Ridge Reservation, the county’s largest park and one of my most favorite spots for photography, just a few miles from my home.

Below are the three images I eventually took.  And liked.  I say “eventually” because things didn’t click right away, literally and figuratively.   Read on if you want to find out how I was finally able to wake up my visual point of view, almost in the blink of an eye.  

As I said, things didn’t start out well.  I hadn’t been out shooting in weeks. After parking near the Meadow, I trudged north through knee-deep snow toward the Cross River, which meanders roughly east and west, dividing the top quarter of the park from the rest of its 4300 acres.  I could sense my impatience growing with each step, and my gear bag felt much heavier than usual, swinging back and forth, further aggravating my shovel-worn back.  Looking around, it was just drab snow and more snow, dull trees and more trees.  Just wanted to get to the River where some interesting image was sure to await me.  Well long story short, I kept at it, but the river was mostly frozen and grey, the light was grey, no striking shadows, no peculiar patterns, no singular shapes.  Blah.

Two hours later I was back in the car, a bit crestfallen.  Not one image on my card. Sat there for a while, staring out into the Meadow whose smooth snow cover was dotted with a million sticks, stems and spikes poking out.  Brooding a little, but also searching in my head for a mental switch I knew was in there somewhere.

Hard to explain, but in a kind of Aha Moment I poked my camera through the car window, zeroed in on a few of those individual spikes, cropped with the zoom lens, composed and clicked the shutter.

Some photographic lecture somewhere in the past came slowly drifting forth – in bits and pieces, and then complete sentences. …familiarity keeps you from seeing things fresh by filling in details from previous experiences … distinguishing in your mind the names of objects from their shape and pattern imbues you with a “beginners” point of view.  Not having to assimilate from scratch all the thousands of visual images one confronts every day is a valuable adaptive quality in most instances.  Since you’ve seen a thousand trees, why not let the mind supply all the previous details – so you don't have to waste time examining this particular tree.  A kind of useful neural shortcut, but, unfortunately, one that interferes with really seeing things anew.

Made some depth of field adjustments and fiddled with the exposure and white balance to get detail in the highlights, but in five minutes, shooting from my car window, these images seemed to magically jump onto my camera’s sensor without effort.  Hope you like them.