THE VIEW FROM HERE
Alive in a Photograph: Warren Johnson 1929-2011
My Dad died this week. He was 82. I didn't know him well, and so much of how he will live on for me is in the few photographs I have.
Photographs are remarkable artifacts of what once was, sometimes implying more, sometimes a palette for our own memories to gather, perhaps unintentionally even fictionalize.
This week, as I gather photographs for a memorial service for my Dad, they offer their own kind of comfort, they were, after all, all moments where we were together, he was looking right at me, with whatever thoughts may have been present in his mind.
He was a curious man, loved a good story, had a hearty laugh, found much absurdity in life, and saw evidence of mysteries beyond our ability to sense or prove.
Shortly after the news, I thought I was working through an acceptance of his death. As I found more photographs, many of which I had forgotten, my mood changed into a fairly heavy burden of loss. It seemed true that the photographs carried a weight of record, and now jogged memories that brought a greater truth home, that there were more precious times than were in the forefront of my mind, that the loss is even greater, that the reality of the photographs themselves had perhaps too much power to take in.
I know how to print, there is little labor beyond finding the files, many of which were made fairly early on in the digital age before I had many of my file protocol and filing procedures worked out. The effort is in standing up to the emotional loss, pressing on through the discoveries so that some precious images can be shared.
Trentepohlia, Fitzgerald Reserve. 2011.
Going Out
A short but somewhat determined trip to our local Fitzgerald Marine Reserve brought back a photograph of the orange moss I've been fascinated by for years. On workshops, the subject is too demanding for me as an instructor to spend the time on, too much attention to depth of field, subtle waves of composition and backlight exposure issues.
At least on this one particular afternoon, even while hoping for a new friend to join me, I took a little time and moved my fascination for the subject a little closer to a satisfying photograph. This strange life form is a subject that will continue to draw me in I'm sure.
The Trentepohlia is a fascinating life form. It is essentially a tree clinging algae, drawing nourishment from the air and sea. It has no leaves as a moss would, but rather microscopic filaments heavy with carotenoid pigments, masking the green of the chlorophyll. According to Wikipedia, "Carotenoids in general absorb blue light. They serve two key roles in plants and algae: they absorb light energy for use in photosynthesis, and they protect chlorophyll from photo damage." In fact, the Grand Prismatic Spring in Yellowstone National Park is ringed in orange by carotenoid molecules in algae, and similar forms seem to protect our eyes from ultraviolet radiation damage.*
*source: Wikipedia
Northern California Events
Al Weber
Aerial Photographs
June 4, 2011 through July 30, 2011
Lecture and Panel Saturday, June 4, 2pm-3:30pm (Steve is on the panel)
Opening Reception Saturday, June 4, 4pm-6pm
Center for Photographic Art
Sunset Cultural Center. San Carlos and 9th Streets
Carmel, CA, 93921.
STUFF
Art and Fear by Ted Orland and David Bayles now available as an eBook through Apple iTunes, Amazon and Barnes & Noble.
Free Canon film camera equipment
Bay Area Matting and Framing Business: Studio 4316 Discount Framing
Al Weber's Mission San Antonio Workshop
A community of photographers, coming together for a few days of looking, questions, exploring and camaraderie, time with old friends, steeped in the traditions of fine art landscape photography while getting a kick in the butt to loosen up and try new stuff. A good three days.
I had never been to this part of California before, nearby, but never this mission, this valley, nor this connection to the coast. The California missions are about the oldest manmade stuff around in California, largely rebuilt, but still occupying some special ground in history. They are both antiquity and old story, old for here, but also very much of European army/religion overtaking native peoples and cultures.
But the rural nature of this place, the long arched corridors, the adobe, the sense of history and stories do draw one in. Of course we have mission cliche's: a kitschy gift shop and easy sense of visual been there/done that. But there is more here, particularly in the context of three days spent wandering, looking, and immersed in photography.
It was also Easter, the Mission is still an active church, so ceremonies and visitation by parishioners and the public were part of the weekend. A fire was built in front of the Mission, which served as a gathering point and beginning for the evening ceremonies.
A few of us spent one late evening around the campfire. It turns out that photographer Victor Landweber is also quite a good guitarist and has a wonderful Leon Redbone kinda of voice and style. I had a great time playing with him, doing of few of my own tunes, hanging out with Ted Orland, David Bayles and a few other new friends.
On coming home, I was tempted onto the Nacimiento-Fergusson road toward Big Sur, even with some doubts as to whether a known road closure on Highway One would leave me blocked from going north and force a very long southward loop. The oaks and hills were beautiful.
As the road rose over the coastal mountains, I drove into mist, then outright clouds of fog. The bucolic road became mysterious, the vistas blind, everything wet. It was a good drive. After 26 winding miles, when I got down to Highway One, the road north to home was open, it was closed a few miles to the south.
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