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 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 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.