“Diversity” – Ashawagh Hall Art Show (February 18 and 19)

On February 18 and 19 2012 I’ll be displaying my work in a group show at Ashawagh Hall in Springs with Cynthia Loewen, Mary Milne, Deborah Anderson, Phyllis Chillingworth and Anahi DeCanio. I’ll be showing new pieces from East Hampton (including the image above).

Ashawagh Hall is located on Springs Fireplace Road in East Hampton. The show will take place on Saturday and Sunday February 18th and 19th. The hours are 12 to 8 on Saturday and 12 to 4 on Sunday. There will be a reception on Saturday from 5 pm until 8 pm. Email me (from the contact link above) if you need more info or specific directions.

We’ve called this show “Diversity” to highlight the varied media represented by the six of us.

Cynthia Loewen is a well-respected realist painter from East Hampton who paints in minute detail. She’ll be displaying a group of paintings she’s done from my photographs (in addition to many other acrylics and watercolors). Here’s a link to Cyndi’s work:

http://www.aaeh.org/Cynthia_Loewen.html

Mary Milne is a superb glass artist from Springs who studied at Pratt and Urban Glass and also at The New York School For Interior Design. She’ll be displaying her very lovely multilayered fusion glass. Here’s a link to Mary’s site:

http://marymilneglassart.com/gallery/ 

Deborah Anderson of Sag Harbor (aka Pressed Petals) is an arranger of dried flowers which she fashions into a variety of formats including many framed pieces which are decorative and which make wonderful gifts.

Anahi DeCanio is an award-winning artist who has exhibited extensively. She excels in a variety of formats, but at the show, she’ll be displaying recent abstract and multimedia paintings which we’re all very excited to see. Here’s a link to Anahi’s site:

http://fineartamerica.com/profiles/anahi-decanio.html

Phyllis Chillingworth is a painter whose watercolors evoke the varied and transient moods of light as seen in Montauk and nearby areas.  She’s a graduate of The Yale School of Art and Architecture and the Illinois Institute of Technology. Here’s a link to her site:

http://www.phyllischillingworth.com/

Please stop by and don’t hesitate to contact me if you have any other questions about the event.

Another Hoodoo…Montauk

I rarely make these statements, but I’d have to say that this picture is my favorite of all my own hoodoo images, east, west or anywhere in between. I do concede that it’s a gloomy scene, but for me it evokes the place, and I can smell the tide and the crumbling earth and the oozing out of spring.

They don’t call them hoodoos for nothing.

Have you ever been at Shadmoor and asked yourself, “How did they get here?” These formations (unlike their more famous cousins in places like Bryce Canyon) are not comprised of eroded sedimentary rock.  What we have here is a mish-mash (my wife’s words) of sand, clay and gravel–also known as glacial till. Long Island itself is pretty much nothing more than a sandbar full of such debris left by retreating glaciers.

The formation of hoodoos here in Shadmoor occurs when water percolates down and begins to move horizontally in the ground. There it pushes out the softer deposits, which kicks off a process of slumping and erosion creating hoodoos out of the remaining harder sediments.  In spring, if you hike down in front of the bluffs on the beach, you’ll often find water leaching out of the clay. In some spots, it forms rivulets which flow onto the sand below. The ocean takes care of the finishing touches with its own brand of erosion, chomping off huge vertical sections after storms.

Montauk Images – Hoodoos In Winter

Anyone who has visited National Parks in Utah (or who has read anything by Edward Abbey) invariably comes away with a fondness for the term “hoodoo”. In the west, a hoodoo is a name for eroded sandstone and limestone formations, especially the ones that conjure up ghastly shapes, anthropomorphic or otherwise. The term is an alternate take on the word voodoo and probably originated in Africa. You can see plenty of hoodoos in Goblin Valley State Park (in central Utah) or in Bryce Canyon.

But the west doesn’t own them all.

Similar spires may be seen in Shadmoor State Park in Montauk, where eroded bluffs create a fantastically ragged coastline. Much like their western cousins, Montauk’s formations continue to erode and reshape themselves (and are arguably just as spectacular).

This photograph was taken a few years back on an obstreperous winter’s day when a storm was clearing out. For about a half hour, I was present for a very interesting display of light which included the occasional sunbeam slanting down to the ocean. The picture was shot on negative film with my Hasselblad.

Montauk – Ocean (and Bluffs) At Shadmoor

Shadmoor State Park preserves a half mile of oceanfront in Montauk along with 99 acres of parkland up on top, and is home to a variety of rare plant and animal species and unusual wetland habitats. Sand Plain Gerardia is present here along with thick stands of Black Cherry and Shadbush, the small tree which gives the park its name.

Shadmoor has historic significance because it’s also the location of Camp Wikoff, where Theodore Roosevelt and his troops were quarantined after the Spanish American War.  Additionally, there are two observation bunkers in Shadmoor which date to WW II and which were part of our coastal defenses.

I’ve photographed Shadmoor at various times and seasons. This image is from down on the beach in front of the bluffs facing Ditch Plain. A half mile walk will get you up-close and personal with the famous Montauk hoodoos, which is the local name for the eroded bluffs of the park.

Not Just For Portraits…the Olympus M. Zuiko 45mm f1.8

In December, as I’ve mentioned, I picked up a lens for my Panasonic Micro 4/3 outfit – the Olympus M. Zuiko 45mm. There’s plenty to say about it, but let me start by saying that since I first opened the box I’ve been savoring it’s compactness. This is a lens that could snuggle up next to a golfball. But more to the point, it’s the very satisfying speed of this lens which has been making most of the news.

By designing it both small and speedy, they’ve escorted handheld telephoto imaging into a new dimension. Interestingly, the M. Zuiko suggests a miniature version of my much-used 90mm Sonnar (for my Contax G2)–a Zeiss telephoto that was another good performer when used without a tripod.

Much has been written about the M. Zuiko’s ability to deliver a creamy soft focus when used wide open (aka bokeh). As you might know, this is an old technique which everyone is infatuated with at the moment. Very shallow depth of field is possible, to an extent not previously achievable with point-and-shoot.  If you’re into bokeh, then this lens is your huckleberry. At ISO 400 you can roam around indoors without a flash, getting portraits with good contrast and no one will even know you’re there.

Needless to say I’m using it for landscapes. The picture above demonstrates how an effective handheld picture is possible with this lens in low light outside. I shot it at ISO 100, at a fairly wide f2.5 aperture and a shutter at 1/160. The aperture was wide, but not entirely open. This was good for several reasons: the image was recorded in the central part of the glass rather than shooting at the very edges. (If I’d used a fast zoom I would’ve been shooting wide open and probably at a higher ISO). I’ve taken advantage of both the speed of the lens and the finest part of the optics by doing this.

Most importantly, the depth of field in the image is surprisingly good. The slight bokeh which one achieves with not-entirely-wide f stops can be very effective in landscapes. In this picture, that effect is most apparent in the darkest part of the foreground.  I was able to shoot handheld at ISO 100 after sundown and achieve adequate depth of field. In these terms, the Olympus 45mm f1.8 is extraordinarily versatile.

The lilliputian character of the M. Zuiko relates directly to the Micro 4/3 sensor. It should be interesting to see if the (significantly larger) Sony NEX 7 system will have a comparable fully automatic prime telephoto available in the next year. I doubt it, but even if one comes along, it’s likely to be larger. For landscapes I much prefer a fast telephoto that’s usable without a tripod. I’m not ditching my Panasonics, and I suspect there’s an argument to make for using both formats.

BTW–This is how I’m currently working with my 4/3 primes:

I pack the Panasonic G 3 and the GF 2 into a small Tenba bag. The weight of both cameras (and all three prime lenses) is less than my old Hasselblad 180mm. That’s a lot of lightweight equipment using very little space. I keep the 14mm Panasonic on my G 3 and the 45mm Olympus on my GF 2. Since my GF 2 is silver, the lens is quite bewitching when paired this body.

The odd man out is my equally speedy 20mm f 1.7 which I can quickly install onto either body when needed. Having two bodies affixed with prime lenses makes it very easy to switch horses in the middle of a shoot. Advice: if you already have a GF body and are considering the G 3 (or GX 1)–keep your original camera. With prime lenses in your bag, having more than one body makes a lot of sense.

Here’s some specs on the lens from the Olympus press release:

http://www.olympus-global.com/en/news/2011a/nr110630zuiko45e.html

Winter Beaches – Square Format Images

The four square format ocean landscapes were shot on negatives with the Hasselblad 903 SWC – a fixed wide angle camera with a 38mm Biogon lens. To this day, the 903 is totally without peer in terms of its compactness and the ability to deliver a ruthlessly precise and highly accurate wide-angle image. Click on the thumbnails to see an enlarged picture:

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Taking Photographs: Getting Psyched For Winter Beaches

It’s 16 degrees this morning, and if that doesn’t feel cold enough, we’ve got 30mph gusts–winds that will be coming down on us out of the northwest like they finally mean business.

This is weather, in other words, which is sure to wake us up.

That being said, the sun is shining with an icy radiance, much like those January mornings back when we were kids. When I was in Sag Harbor earlier today, I re-discovered the satisfaction of stepping into a warm building. Bank, post office, or five-and-dime–we become more of a community when it’s freezing out. I say: bring it on. To hell with warm weather. The absurdly balmy climate we’ve been “blessed” with lately here in the middle latitudes has actually been depressing (my opinion). This is the argument:  The earth has a bit of a fever. Shouldn’t we be rooting for the planet? Shouldn’t we be wishing for it to be cold out when it’s supposed to be?

Winter is my favorite time to photograph beaches, but I’ll need to clarify that. In truth, I’ve taken pictures on days that are cold enough in November to feel like winter. Ditto for March and April, (months that have sent me home with popsicle fingers on more than one occasion).

Many of you live far enough south to never see snow on a beach. Others are trapped in ocean-deprived deserts or in situations where taking yourself to a frigid beach comes with very little appeal. I admit that it’s not easy to be out there taking pictures in a salt-soaked wind that’s cutting into your bones like a sushi knife.

But there’s tantalizing things going on–especially for photographers.

After a heavy snowfall, the slush that forms on the beach is beyond compare. A high tide can tease a beach full of snow into a distinctive foamy pulp. After getting gnawed at by the tides, it often refreezes. It can be crunchy (like walking on styrofoam)–or a whipped frozen froth speckled with sand and seaweed. It’s hard to tell what you’re walking on exactly. I once bought a set of “tripod snowshoes” which I’ve yet to try out, but I’m not sure if they’d work in the variable states of beach slush.

Up on the dunes, winter can come with ravishing views. It’s possible to find beachgrass encased in the ice of sea-spray (see my other post today). This is beautiful stuff–something rarely glimpsed. Several winters I’ve encountered large blocks of ice that dot the sand as far as you can see. In my rangering days on Fire Island I once rode on horseback into such a landscape. It was surreal–a blue and white polka dot beach with no one in sight in any direction. My horse trotted between the ice blocks while I took the pictures. Somewhere I have a photograph I took that day.

The beach in winter can be rewarding. My advice: dress warm, wear high boots (or snowshoes), and find some gloves that will permit you to use a digital camera. Keep in mind that microscopic buttons and dials are difficult to operate with fingers full of congealed blood. Beyond that, avoid changing lenses. Avoid using tripods without rubber grips. Make sure your camera batteries work in low temperatures. At all times, remember that you’re heading out into the absolute worse conditions for optics–salt, sand, dampness, ice and all the rest of it. Clean your camera when you get home…and whatever you do don’t drop it!

Footnote: I’ve included the picture up above in my Beach Days gallery. I admit that it was taken under conditions that almost no one would associate with a “beach” day.  Anyone I would have encountered out there would’ve been fully clothed and their umbrellas would’ve only come in dark colors. In other words, there were no stripes anywhere and no lotions.

I’m suggesting we expand the common view: some days should be considered beach days for reasons other than the ordinary ones. Indeed, maybe every day is a beach day of sorts.

Ask a duck– it’s not always about getting a tan.

East Hampton – New Beach Photographs (Panasonic G3 and GF2)

To coincide with the new year I have six new images photographed with new equipment–all during the last week.

New is the word.

In December I added some items to the Micro Four Thirds system which I’ve been working with since last summer by picking up the Panasonic G3 and a 45mm f1.8 Olympus telephoto lens. These pictures were photographed with either the G3 or the new lens on my older GF2.

By the way–as of 2 pm today,  Imagecurrent is only two views short of 20,000. The site got rolling in late January 2010 (a little less than two years ago), so thanks in advance to whoever pushes us over 20K mark this afternoon!  And–thanks again to all who have stopped by over the last two years, and for your helpful comments and suggestions.

The pictures below are from local ocean and bay beaches at Napeague and Northwest Harbor. The vertical (above) is from just south of Mile Hill Road looking toward Barcelona Neck. It was photographed on New Years’ day.

The thumbnails can be enlarged by clicking on them:

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Main Beach, Photographed From The Jetty

Here’s an early morning look at breaking surf just east of Main Beach. I took this photograph about three weeks ago, positioned up on the jetty with my back to the sunrise. It’s maybe not apparent from the photograph but since I was standing on the jetty, the camera is actually about eight feet above the surf.  Just to my left were the small flock of Purple Sandpipers who are regular visitors to these rocks (and who were eyeing me with more interest than the waves). They’re not common birds. If you’re down at Main Beach bring binoculars because they’re often found lurking around at the end of the jetty.

There’s no snow in the picture, but it does speak the language of winter. The steep scarp on Long Island’s ocean beaches is common during these months because of changes in current. This time of the year the ocean tends to scoop sand away (rather than deposit it),  later throwing it back in time for summer. In the picture,  a scarp is beginning to form on the beach to the right. The direct sunlight slanting across the water at daybreak is also a winter phenomenon.

For the next few months, it’s not uncommon to find scarps with four foot sheer drops caused by the erosive effects of a high tide. If you’re so inclined, it’s fun to play with a frisbee along the edges of these because you can practice diving catches.  Dogs and children welcome.

Some Words for Micro Four Thirds, Prime Lenses (and the New Mexico Plains)

I promise this won’t be a review. Well at least not exactly. I will take this opportunity to crank out a bit of a “rolling plug”

I started working in the 4/3 format earlier this year using a Panasonic Lumix GF2 and a pair of those morsel-sized a la carte lenses. I have the 14mm and the 20mm primes which translate into a 28mm and 40mm respectively (0n a 35mm camera). These lenses are sometimes referred to as “pancakes” and we can rest assured that whoever conjured up such a name had a functional imagination. (We could also call them truffles, or slightly flattened cupcakes).

There’s been plenty of hype about this format along with all the digital-jabber and hyperactive comparisons that we’ve come to expect at regular intervals every time a new product arrives. Rejoice in knowing that I won’t contribute anything else to that particular subject.

Those in love with increasing numbers of megapixels got their fix a couple of years ago when the format first surfaced. Plus there was a larger sensor. We now know that the RAW files produced by any of the Olympus or Panasonic bodies will serve you well if you caress them properly. But … be warned:  If you own one of these cameras, don’t doubt for a minute that you’ll be seriously tempted by the next wave (spelled: NEX 7). If you decide to chase that carrot next February it will be your strictly your decision. My advice is to sit back and relax. Be a tortoise. Avoid the bleeding edge. They’ve stumbled onto a nice balance between performance and weight here at the moment — and we might as well enjoy it.

My friend (and fellow photographer) John Ellsworth told me last week that handling one of these micro 4/3 lenses is something like handling a “chess piece”. I enjoyed the thought. (He was actually referring to the Olympus M Zuiko 45mm f1.8, another lens which I finally sprung for). John and I are old enough to remember what 120 film cameras feel like when they’re hanging around your neck.

Anyway, the photograph above was taken with the Panasonic GF 2 (and the 20mm f1.7). With this camera, I’m able to focus the picture and adjust the exposure by the very simple act of touching the screen, (something which I still regard with amazement). I’ve been surprised to read that touch-screen navigation has aggravated some photographers. It seems there’s those who’d rather twist a dial. I’m fine with the touch screen possibly because it appeals to my severely limited capacity to follow instructions. Look at it this way: touching a screen requires only one finger and turning a dial takes two.

I’ll admit that since I bought this camera I’ve been cornering opportunities to explore the speed of these lenses. Believe it or not you can perform a variation on street photography far from any lamppost. The 20mm lens is also capable of producing shallow depth of field. In Japan they call this effect “bokeh”. I’m still uneasy with the pronunciation but I’ve been using the word a lot lately because it’s a lot sexier than saying “shallow depth of field”.

At any rate, my camera was hand-held for this picture and was therefore free to shoot six or seven variations in several positions and all in less than a minute. I feel like I’m playing jazz when I’m not off mucking around with my tripod and its multitude of extended joints. Let’s face it;  tripods are a bit clunky by nature. They also require at least three fingers to operate. That makes them even more complicated than turning a dial and much more so than touching a screen. I use them strictly when I need to.

Enough with cameras. Let’s move on to the West.

I’ve visited the eastern plains of New Mexico many times over the years and I always wonder why everyone else is driving though the place as fast as they can. I concede that there’s nothing much to see except for open space, which for me, is pretty much the point. This is not the Grand Canyon. If you spend any time out on the plains your expectations for normal landscapes will need to evolve. The scenery basically comes down to various combinations of grass and clouds, and (for better or worse) the ever present evidence of humans which usually takes the shape of  a fence. There’s cows everywhere but one thing about the plains is that you hardly ever see the people.  That’s okay, because their absence creates interest.

One visit didn’t involve taking any pictures. Many years ago my wife and I took a train ride west from Long Island. We took it all the way to Albuquerque just to see what it was like.

It was long.  Even compared to a bad day at the airport, this was a trip which slowed time down to a slurpy crawl.  It seemed like years before we were rid of the east (but once we were past Chicago things did get more interesting).  My favorite part was the morning after the second night. We got up and walked groggily through the train to a very lovely dining car. I remember cloth napkins. We were seated at small table and had the most delicious breakfast with a very compelling view. We were now chugging through the plains and were finally situated in New Mexico. All you could see was mile after mile of grass, clouds and the ubiquitous fences of ranching. It looked something like my picture up above except it was brighter because the sun coming up.

As I said, it wasn’t a day that I used my camera.  The train window took all the pictures and we stored them in our memory.

Red Shack In Blowing Snow – New Suffolk, 1988

On a winter’s day about twenty five years ago, I was photographing over on the North Fork with my Fuji 645′s.  The New Suffolk waterfront in those days was the location of the former post office – a homey red building which doubled as a grocery store. It was an inviting hang-out for locals who could grab some coffee and catch up with the neighbors.

For a period of time, the store was known as Bill’s Grocery (later to become Fagan’s). It had a lovely view of Robin’s Island, which on warmer days one could enjoy from the porch.  New Suffolk, in those times, possessed a degree of character which has since begun to evaporate here on eastern Long Island. Back then (and even today when I look at this picture) it’s hard not to notice the similarity between this building and the Springs General Store on Accabonac Harbor here in East Hampton.

Sadly, New Suffolk’s general store never did enjoy the same degree of longevity as its cousin in Springs. On a Thursday morning in 1993 (only a few years after this picture was taken) it burned to the ground despite the Cutchogue Fire Departments’ best efforts. Last year I inquired at the local library to see if anyone knew the history behind the quirky red shack in front of the post office (the one-eyed building which is the main subject of my photograph).  Was it a fish shack or a bait shop? A tool shed? Was it moved there temporarily to sit out the winter on concrete blocks? The reference librarian was unfamiliar with the building and after a bit of research, told me that no one seemed to remember it. It lives on, at least in the picture … a long-forgotten shack  on the docks of New Suffolk, caught in a snowy gale.

Anyone with any details about this relatively recent footnote to North Fork history please feel free to comment!

Winter Trees – Barcelona Neck

Barcelona Neck is a peninsula in Northwest Harbor that is home to the 500 acre Linda Gronlund Memorial Nature Preserve. Linda was a Sag Harbor native who died in the Pennsylvania plane crash which occurred on 9-11. The park has a network of well-maintained trails that explore field edges, salt marsh, second growth forest and beaches. There are many water views. My picture above was taken there a few years ago around this time of the year.

The peninsula has historic ties with Sag Harbor, although the park itself is within the Town Of East Hampton. It’s been said that homesick Spanish sailors thought the bluffs at the north end of the peninsula resembled those in Barcelona. On a clear day from on top you can see the distant archipelago formed by Plum Island, Great Gull, Little Gull and Fishers Island.

I gravitate to the park mostly to photograph fields, or more specifically to photograph the “gradient” of habitation as it fades gracefully into the woods. In some respects a lot of my pictures appear to be preoccupied with this, although it’s not usually a conscious function and is sometimes not successful.

Winter arrives in a week. If you live far enough north to have an ice rink in your birdbath then you’ll be enjoying a low angle of sun for another month. It can be a reason to plot an escape, perhaps to a warmer place with a sun on a higher perch. But on the other hand (if you stick around),  you can always grab a camera and try to harvest the light.

December Morning – Sag Harbor Bay From North Haven

North Haven, with it’s 360 degrees of shoreline, has endless opportunities for seascapes. On the east side beaches for example, the sun is currently rising perpendicular to the photographer producing beautiful light (especially if the seas are as calm as they were on Sunday morning).

From the north, there are a number of views of Shelter Island. From the southeast corner you’re looking at Jessup’s Neck in Noyack and from the northeast corner you’ve got a view of Southold. At the end of Route 114 you can watch the South Ferry making its endless rounds to Shelter Island.

This picture looks up along the east shore, and in the distance is Mashomack Preserve. The eastern part of North Haven is riddled with boulders and small patches of salt marsh; the other side is populated with high bluffs. Calm seas make either place the perfect locale for seascapes.

The best way to take it all in is with a sea kayak. From Long Beach you can circumnavigate North Haven in two or three hours. If you decide to paddle across to Mashomack you can stretch the trip to five. There’s also Genet Creek which is situated just to the west of the South Ferry launching area. Paddling into Genet will take you surprisingly far into the central part of the peninsula and much of the surrounding land is preserved. You can easily spend an hour or two poking around, slack tide being the optimal time for a visit.

This picture was taken with a normal lens which, in a way, is the least “obvious” of focal lengths. What interested me here was the repetition of shapes – the tongue of salt marsh being repeated by the shape of the largest cloud. Despite the placidity of the water, there is also a nice spiraling movement – clouds, reflections and the rocks in the foreground – something which I was hoping to capture more effectively with this lens.

Foggy Sunrise – Marine Park Waterfront, Sag Harbor

A recent scene – the sun battling with the fog for the better part of an hour… this one from Marine Park.

Sag Harbor Cove – Foggy Morning, Reflecting Sun

An image from last week looking east from Long Beach into Sag Harbor Cove.

John Todaro Photography – Studio Appointments Winter/Spring 2011-2012

My studio in East Hampton is open for appointments anytime from now until May. I’ll be displaying new work that I’ve been posting here recently, along with existing editions. Photographs are available in a variety of sizes either framed or unframed.  (My frames are white wood). If you’re interested in purchasing prints, picking up gifts or checking out the inventory, send me an email at the “contact” link at the top of the page.  For those situated beyond the Hudson River my work can be shipped. Email me through the contact link for details.

Incidentally, Napeague Lane (where this photograph was taken) is a wise choice if you’re looking for a beach in Amagansett that’s  off the beaten path. This time of the year it’s a good place to bring a spotting scope and watch Gannets. A short walk to the east will take you into Napeague State Park and its 1300 acres of undeveloped oceanfront. In mid winter, I’ve found Harp Seals here snoozing on the beach and soaking up the warmth of the January sun. Even in the summer these are beaches with lower visitation.  The walk from Napeague Lane to the White Sands parking area and back is about six miles on the ocean and is one of the most secluded walks of this type on eastern Long Island.

Boat, Accabonac Harbor – Thoughts on Verticals

This very slender image of a boat was taken on the same foggy morning as the last two photographs.  Here’s another variation:

http://johntodaro.wordpress.com/?attachment_id=6475

With images like these I can’t deny that a lifelong interest in Japanese painting still provides inspiration.  Maybe “information” is just as appropriate as “inspiration” because what I’m remembering is an esthetic approach rather than specific paintings.

In the 70′s I discovered the Freer Gallery in Washington and museums with similar work in NYC. The Japanese paintings I was looking at were centuries old but had a sophistication and contemporariness that I couldn’t find in European art.  In my twenties, I couldn’t get enough of the stuff, particularly the verticals. The result has been a thirty year affinity with the idea of formatting photographs in this manner, especially if they’re monochromatic.

There are connections between Japanese design elements and American photography because interest in both arrived here at around the same time. Early painterly work by Alfred Stieglitz followed on the heels of impressionism and it’s affinity for things Japanese. More specific was Minor White’s imagery which its obvious connections to Zen Buddhism. My own teacher Anthony Nobile was an associate of White’s along with fellow student Paul Caponigro. A third student was the late Zen Buddhist roshi John Daido Loori whose ties with White continued to inform his photography until his final days.

My teacher, Anthony Nobile made beautiful black and white images of waterfalls and formatted them as simple verticals. One such image was published in a book entitled Octave of Prayer which is sadly out of print. I can tell you that thirty years later the memory of that photograph still invigorates the way I compose a picture including the one at this post.

Perhaps the modern world with all its clutter is constantly in need of an antidote. Japanese brush paintings are one such remedy. Photography provides another.

Louse Point Boat – Foggy Silhouettes

This photograph is of the same boat in my earlier post and was shot on the same morning in a dense fog which the sun was burning off. The slightly warm look of these photographs is entirely natural. Basically, I photographed into the sun’s watery reflection creating foggy silhouettes.

What’s interesting about these photos is the difference a lens can make in the interpretation of a scene. The earlier photograph was taken with a telephoto lens (135mm equivalent on a 35mm camera) and this one was taken with a “normal” lens (40mm equivalent on a 35mm camera).

An  analogy is to think of the actual scene as the musical score. One’s selection of a lens can change the “feel” of the scene much in the same way that various instruments will change the feel of a score.

Photography 101 – Anthony’s Scissors

This begins a series of very basic pictures.

The images are monochromatic renditions of boats in the fog from a recent morning in Springs. Considering that it’s my 101st post here on WordPress there couldn’t be a more appropriate title than “Photography 101″.

All of us who take pictures with any kind of serious interest can benefit by being both teacher and student.  We remind ourselves what works behind the camera and then we pay attention. When we get out there with our cameras in a “101 state of mind” we start to see things better.

What works best for me is keeping things simple.

What that means is eliminating everything that’s not needed in the picture. In some cases that means eliminating 90% of your photograph (which is not easy). You get attached. You want all of it… the sky, the clouds, the water. But part of you knows it doesn’t work.  Getting rid of the clutter isn’t always easy because it requires a critical eye. It calls for non attachment.

A long time ago I was taking one of Anthony Nobile’s workshops. Our assignment was to take a black and white picture, develop it and return the following week.  I still have a distinct memory of working on my own picture. After a few days, the group of us gathered again in the garage where he conducted classes. Our chairs were pulled into a close circle around a portable heater.  Tony was an unorthodox instructor who spoke with very careful language so we were on the edge of our seats.

I remember him leafing though our pictures while his cat brushed against our shins. The room was quiet – monasterial.  After a few moments, he selected a landscape and held it up. Then we watched as he cut out a small rectangle with a pair of scissors. He raised the cut-up print looking something like a rogue priest holding the Eucharist.

All he said was,  ”this works.”

It wasn’t religion (thank goodness) but it was a game changer for me. Someone else’s print had been cut up, but it could just as well have been mine. Tony’s pair of scissors ushered in a lengthy period of ripping up my own prints that lasted a couple of years. Occasionally there were some good moments – times when I pulled a picture out of the developer that actually worked.

It was around then that I began to understand the nature of simplicity in photography. That was 35 years ago and I’m still in 101.

Fish Traps – Long Beach, Sag Harbor

My 100th post. Thanks to all who have stopped by!

This photograph is of a group of trap stakes forming the leader for what has been called a “fish trap” here on eastern Long Island for as long as anyone can remember. The picture in my previous post will give you an idea what the complete trap looks like from the water.  My friend Brad Loewen, (a lifetime commercial fisherman in Springs) told me recently that the more proper name is pound traps — a term rarely used here unless it’s in an “official” conversation.

It was only after talking to Brad, that I gained an appreciation for the amount of work that’s involved in preparing these stakes. For years, fisherman have been harvesting young oaks and hickories and shaping them into twelve foot poles, shaving each to a pointed end. The final step in the process involves pumping them into the mud of shallow bays…a tiring job done from a boat (which sends the fisherman home with a ravenous appetite!)

Sometimes when hiking along the bay I’ve stumbled upon groups of freshly honed trap stakes lying above the tideline. The poles are ready to go, complete with rigging.  In a day or so, the fisherman will return to drag his stakes offshore to be installed in a fish trap. I’ve often noted how these poles (with their bluntly sharpened tips) seem to closely resemble the small trees felled by beavers.

Fishermen like Brad are maintaining an age-old occupation which has been carried on here since before the arrival of Europeans.

Incidentally, Brad’s wife Cyndi is an outstanding  watercolorist and stipple artist and we’ll be doing a show together at Ashawagh Hall on the weekend of February 18, 19 and 20 next year. More on that later…