Happy Anniversary!

“There is nothing like looking, if you want to find something. You certainly usually find something, if you look, but it is not always quite the something you were after.”

The quote above, taken from The Hobbit, has proven to be my truth here at the beach.  We came here to rest our souls after the ladder experience.  This process, this healing time, has had the odd effect of erasing my creative.  It completely disappeared, instead becoming a blank white page. White noise.  A vast nothingness.  These days shooting photographs doesn't come easy but I do it anyway.  It may only be a sunrise, a wave, a pelican but I do it in order to remember the process, to keep my skills as fresh as possible.  Quite simply, oddly, photography is not the passion that it was Before Ladder.  At least for now.

Today, March 8, marks the one year anniversary of our arrival at Kure Beach, North Carolina.

Our first few months here were idyllic.  Spring 2012 was pleasant with abundant sunshine.  Lugging chairs to the beach we would simply sit and stare out over the ocean, watch the birds, watch the fishermen and locals who walked along the sparcely attended shoreline.  Once, we witnessed the process of evaporation - moisture rising off the ocean, cooling the air - and felt its immediate effect.  Sometimes we would talk but more often our companionable silence stretched long and deep.  Sinew by sinew my back, shoulders and neck relaxed, gradually, bringing daily noticeable differences.  Sleep was deep and sound.  Solitary meditative beach walks matched the rhythm of the tides - slow, deliberate, silent.  Collecting beach treasures became my new passion. 

And why?  Why collect bits of nature?  Why do I relish the feel of a barnicle-crusted old shell in my hand?  Why must I collect fossilized teeth, bone and barbs? Why do I feel the need to display them, touch them over and over, inhale their briny scent?

I think it's because I'm collecting pieces of myself.

Treasures that interest me are not the usual shells but those that are worn.  Pieces, even. I was worn upon arriving here, and in pieces. 

Initially, I became passionate about pieces of clam shells.  I didn't know at first what they were, but stripes of deep purple, lavender and mauve undulating through smooth creamy pieces caught my eye. I found one.  Then another, and another, and another. Before long I had quite the collection, and they are now proudly displayed in clear glass vases and bowls.

Clam shells are common along the shoreline but they aren't particularly pretty.  Clunky, brown things like a horse's hoof can be readily found any given day.  However, these clunky brown shells contain a miracle within.  As the surf and currents pound them up over time they break up, the brown parts break off and the inner bits of shell are polished by the ocean and sand into these creamy purply bits of loveliness. 

I like to think that's happening to me, to my soul.  The brown, clunky, tired, weary soul I dragged to this place is gradually breaking up, being polished, exposing a soft loveliness inside.

Having always been active and creative, goals were penned before coming here.  More photography, volunteer with the turtle project, write a book, join a land trust, journal and meditate, learn yoga and Reiki. 

However, what I did instead was simply stop.  Stop.  I stopped and I breathed.  At first, my lungs always felt like I'd been swimming when all I did was walk the beach.  The fresh salt air scrubbed my lungs.  Walking serpentine sands strengthened my back, my legs and I turned tan and my hair lighter. My long-neglected body finally felt firmer, felt better, felt healthier, felt rested.

So it has been a year and I think I'm finished resting. I'm beginning to feel the pull of my creative and wonder what direction it will take me.  It's time to begin filling in that blank white page.

Photographic Experimentation

I've been playing.

Water, oils, lighting, textures and various lenses.

They're not birds or bugs, sunrises or trees.  

However, they are indeed created from elements from Mother Earth.

The joy of playing was so freeing, happy.

The Creative Heart

Heart-shaped leaf in the birdbath

Long ago a friend told me that she could always tell when her daughters were about to go though a growth spurt.  Their little bodies would began to visually thicken, expanding outward, building deep within before - whoosh! - growing several inches or more within a short amount of time.  This "thickening" was a signal to her that new clothes would soon be needed as her precious daughters grew up.  

What a wonderful analogy for Life itself.  This long ago conversation came to me recently when trying to describe my current status.  A Thickening.  I'm in the midst of my own personal, creative thickening.  

Everyone goes through this I'm sure, but I know this phenomena definitely occurs when it comes to artists and their work.  Painters, musicians, photographers, everyone who dabbles in a creative hobby or business experiences a down time.  This is a time to observe and meditate.  A time to explore and dream.  A time to open our hearts to different pathways.  A time to rest and absorb.  

I believe this thickening time important for the creative process.  As frustrating as it has been for me lately, I finally figured out that this down time is necessary.  Many friends have told me this but it seemed so that I was losing myself, my creative.  As Bart Simpson would say "...Doh!"  As my favorite season approaches and the dry drought heat of summer diminishes it is a relief to realize that I'm in the midst of a thickening.  What a lovely time to be resting, absorbing, observing, meditating, dreaming and exploring!  Welcome Autumn!

The Creative

Man, I am so struggling.  My Creative is in Stuck Mode.  From time to time a burst of Creative will happen and then it's gone...like a thought.  What the hell?  I don't mean to whine.  Really.  I don't.  Here's a burst of the Creative that happened last week:

There was this teeny tiny moth outside on the bubble glassed panel that runs the length of our front door.  Our porch is dark, shaded, protected, and this little moth was resting there.  Slipping outside I crept closer and closer shooting as stealthily as possible.  I shouldn't have worried.  She wasn't bothered by my presence.

Because the porch is dark and shaded this was the best shot I could get.  I couldn't possibly bother to set up the tripod.  When the Creative shows up it's best not to delay.  It's the action that counts, and these images are okay.  The simplicity.  The little feathery antennae.  Feeling a tad more blissful I came inside, turned around to close the door.  I could still see the little moth from the inside.

The bubbly glass made the moth look like she's under water, and the light from within the house brightened up her colors.  How pretty!  It all depends on one's point of view, doesn't it?

Outside looking in or inside looking out.  The moth is the same but the images are completely different.  This wonderful hobby of photography has helped me truly "see" our world in many ways.  That my Creative will return I've no doubt.  You see, Autumn is coming and Autumn is my favorite time of the year.  Crisp air, bright skies, changing light - ahhhhh, changing light!  Gotta go chase it.

Meditations

The earthy aroma of coffee mingled with the heady scent of books.  A favorite activity, strolling the towering, colorful shelves of a bookstore, is a bliss like no other.  New books, paperbacks, bargain shelves, children's corner, magazines and newspaper from around the globe lovingly caressed, thumbed through and appreciated by confirmed bookaholics.

The bargain shelf always beckons.  Upon this shelf I see something of interest.  "Meditations from A Course in Miracles: Inspirational quotes of universal wisdom."  A smallish book, covered with silhouettes of trees in a misty forest, it stuck to my hand like honey.  Flipping through the introduction I see a passage that gives me pause that goes as follows:

"Nothing real can be threatened

Nothing unreal exists

Herein lies the peace of God"

The book divides the course thematically into eight topics.  My original intent was to read and meditate daily upon each page and write in my journal.  However, another goal has come to the fore, which is to post a photo a day - or thereabouts.  Sometimes my travels take me to places that do not allow for posting so I shall not beat myself up if I miss some days.  However, I can combine the two into one project, and add more books as I wish.  More quotes as I wish.  A book, a quote, a photo.

Recently, I've challenged myself to go outside every day with my camera and shoot whatever I find that's of interest.  Just in my yard.  There is always some tiny miracle occurring; it's up to me to discover it and see how many ways I can capture it digitally.  It's my daily meditation now along with reading and journaling.

The first section from my new Meditations book is on Adversity.  Page 1 - not admitting (into your life) pain.  "Nothing can hurt you unless you give it the power to do so."  This is good for me today for I have been allowing a situation to cause me deep pain.  The situation is unimportant, but what is important is my reaction to it.  It's an old reaction - an embedded pattern that I am trying to break.  Seeing it is the first step.  Just like seeing the beauty of a leaf floating in water.  I see, I see. 

The Art of Leaves

There is simply no excuse to not go outside and play with the camera. These days find me with more and more time on my hands as the Hubs is recuperating nicely yet it's too soon to take a day-long road trip. Our backyard isn't filled with particularly interesting bits. Or......is it?


The November sun is angled perfectly through the remaining leave structure clinging to the multiple trees along the fence line. The leaves that will be turned to mulch soon call me one afternoon. While Baylee romped and played with sticks I twirled and held up interesting leaves into the light.

Same leaves, different angles, differing lighting.

Their beauty astounds me.

The siding creates a lovely backdrop.

Front then back.

Golden bokeh.

This one sort of reminds me of a horse's head.

Sunlight and leaf.

Even the most mundane of objects can be found beautiful and interesting when shown in a different light. More can be found on my Facebook if you're interested. Just click the link.

Seeded Earth Studios

American White Pelican
Wheeler Dam - Tennessee River

I am such a dolt. Bo Mackison of the delightful Seeded Earth Studio invited various photographers to submit a guest post on her blog. Her subject: "Why Photography?" There were no rules exactly, but each guest was to expound on why photography is their passion, their art medium or career. The only criteria for the post was how we felt photography has added value to our lives.

Atkeson Cypress Trail
Wheeler Wildlife Refuge

I threw my hat into the ring, desperate in my need to practice the creative. It isn't that I'm exactly drowning in the sea of my husband's 24/7 care giving after his accident. However, there simply hasn't been any time or energy for road trips and photography. I'm sure you've noticed, but fortunately you're all kind and visit here anyway from time to time which reassures that perhaps I've not grown boring.

But I digress. Bo initially had me down as first to post, but graciously allowed me to go last when I just didn't have the time to devote to the task initially. My finally submitted missive was merely passable prose, but personally it was a breakthrough simply because it jump started my brain . However, in my zeal and delight at being chosen for this honor I completely forgot to tell you all and provide a link to my host's site! Unforgivable! I'm such a dolt! In the wise word of Bart Simpson..."DOH!"

How do you choose to visit a blog? Titles reeled me in. Anything earthy warranted an immediate read. Seeded Earth was one of those, and Bo's amazing photography and stories kept me there. Befriending this wonderful, fascinating, multi-talented woman has been a bonus to me. In addition to all of that she lives in Wisconsin, which I adore. Bo is a contributor to a blog called The Calming Space, a lovely blog to visit, find solace through like minds, soak up the beauty, wise words and beautiful photography. There, Bo contributes articles for her Memoir Space.

Therefore, you are formally invited to visit Bo Mackinson's wonderful Seeded Earth Studio blog by clicking on the link. My post is dated October 8th, and I strongly encourage you to scroll down to read all the other photographer's posts and link to their websites. There are some tremendously talented people in our world.

Thank you, Bo, for the wonderful opportunity. Have a great trip, dear, and be safe.

Down to the Bones

Times come where one must simplify and get down to the bones of life.

Many of you know that I read Robert Genn's Twice-Weekly Letters, which arrive in my Inbox with blessed regularity. His last missive was titled "Finding Your Voice." A reader sent Robert a query involving finding one's voice. Mr. Genn's answer began with this: "First off, and contrary to what I've said before, plans can actually derail the voice-finding process. Further, you have to know what you mean by "voice." Voice in style is different than voice in cause. Ideally, style develops over time. Cause is based on attitude and issue. With growth and development, causes change. A predetermined voice shackles creativity."

Robert's novella was ripe with knowledge, which I won't go into here, but will share four points that were highlighted. For those of you who aren't familiar, Robert Genn is a painter and his Twice-Weekly letters mainly focus on painting and the overall creative. I have found his wisdom to be extremely illuminating, touching all manner of subjects not related to painting in and of itself.

That said, he listed 4 things to help one find one's voice:

1. You need to make stuff.
2. You need hunger.
3. You need curiosity.
4. You need joy.

Plans can indeed derail the voice-finding process. In my case, the fear and drudgery of all things non-creative - the business side - has caused paralysis and sucked the joy right out of my craft. Also, a constantly changing home life - destabilization - gives little time for creativity. I'm off balance.

Robert ends with his usual piece of Esoterica, as follows: "What's my voice?" has to be asked by each individual artist. Committee-free, the artist needs to develop her voice as if on an island. To be a voice is to be a different voice, set apart, unique. How to find it? Go to your island, put in long hours, fall in love with process--your voice will come out of your work."

I'm thinking long hours in a peaceful surrounding, perhaps at a local convent or park, would be helpful. "Away" seems to be the best option. Peace and quiet, reflection, journaling and nature calls to me.

Cause for concern is that my camera never leaves its case these days. The last time I visited the lake it sat in the same spot I plunked it upon arriving, never moving until I left 3 days later. Further, it never crossed my mind. Upon leaving I realized it was there and was startled to realize that I'd forgotten about it entirely.

What do you do when you feel you've lost all four points, above?

Bragging

Once again, I must brag on the offspring. My daughter knows every button to push to get on every single nerve in my body, she tries my patience with every breath and she's always bored with me and everything I do...until she needs money. Typical teenager.

However, this kid has a natural photographic talent. The shot above she took in an abandoned playground down the road. She's been creative all her life and has shown me time and time again an inborn sense of artistic composition in her paintings, sketchings and now photography.

The teenager taking a photo of herself...which she loves to do.

She and my husband just returned from a Father-Daughter Trip to Las Vegas to see her other sister and the brother-in-law. They had a ball. My daughter - THE Primo Shopper - brought home this shot...which I love!

Okay. That's it. I'm just bragging here. Have a lovely weekend everyone.

Black & White

Brett Trafford at 365 to 42 got me to thinking about some of my landscape photos. His are extraordinary (check out Brett's August 7 post - OMG!) Brett has been a generous teacher in a short amount of time. He's not aware of that of course, but probably will after this post ... should anyone even read it.

Brett talked this week on his blog about how desaturating landscapes into black & white can make them really pop. Me being the purist and all hadn't even thought about that. I'm not crazy about my landscapes. To me my landscapes seem to be flat and uninteresting. Too, sometimes I count on Photoshop to correct my blunders so I tend to think of Photoshop as doctoring. Intellectually, I realize that Photoshop is much more than a tool for doctoring photographs. It's great for cropping, sharpening and enhancing images. Even Ansel Adams tinkered with exposures during the development process. Those black blacks and white whites of Yosemite were not that crisp out in the field, and obviously his landscapes were originally in color. Ahem. Photoshop is basically a digital darkroom. Ansel used many of the same tricks, just not with a computer.

I wanted to give Brett's techniques a try, so I turned off my brain and simply played. For my subject matter, I chose some recent shots I took of a dried up swamp. While these are not stellar shots of anything, the exercise proved Brett right. Even the most mundane of photos - mine - can be made more interesting using the technique.

Above is the original shot - close-ups of tree stumps in the middle of the swamp far away from my perch by the roadside. To me, the original lacks a certain ooomph. It's flat and simply...dull

Here is a more of a true landscape shot of the swamp. Dull, dull, dull. I do hope you are able to enlarge each photo to see them more clearly.


The black & white version is far more ethereal, with black stumps amid silvery grasses and behind the white tree trunks have a darker backdrop. Still not a perfect shot by any stretch of the imagination but clearly indicates that even so-so shots can be made better in black & white. If nothing else, this exercise frees up some backward thinking on my part and has given me the license to play and experiment with some shots that have always left me wanting.


You be the judge.

July Photo Swap

Yesterday I received my first Scent of Water Photo Swap package in the mail. Oh, I am not worthy! Leanne at The Stitching Room neatly packed several photos, one in a frame, a couple of her cards and a darling handmade notebook. She took some phenomenal photos to interpret the July theme "In Motion." Naturally, the nature pics grabbed my attention first - water flowing around rocks in a stream. However, the one that makes me stare at it and daydream is one that captured fire licking around pieces of wood. Campfires are a favorite activity of mine. I could watch them forever, poke at them and watch the ends of the sticks glow in the night. She captured some unique shots of the everyday - an umbrella in the rain, underneath which is her son running. It's unearthly and awesome. For the cooks among us a delightful capture of a kitchen concoction being stirred, which is buttery and creamy. My daughter in particular loves the shots she sent of an amusement park. The handmade notebook feels good in my hand, and will fit nicely in my photo bag to jot down notes about my work.

This was my first photo swap and I can see I need to step up more. The poor recipient of my gift received a handmade card and two photos. It's definitely time to get more creative.

What I've enjoyed about the photo swap is observing the talents and interpretations of a theme, and the sharing and delightful comments from people across the globe who enjoy playing with their cameras. Shooting around one topic made me think differently about the way I photograph objects. I didn't want to do it the same old way so I experimented with all manner of manual settings and positioned myself differently to get shots. It was a terrific exercise, and I'm grateful to Diane at Alberta Postcards for inviting me to join the group. It was a kick!

Now.......I'm ready for the next topic. Bring it on.

Shibui

A watercolor artist friend of mine signed me up to a twice-weekly newsletter that I am really enjoying. The newsletter's author, Robert Genn, is an accomplished artist. As well, his style of writing is thoughtful, intelligent and wide-reaching. This is more than a newsletter for the painting artist, but is an insightful, thought-provoking, teaching newsletter that covers all spectrum of the creative. I've learned so much, including terminology that apply to arts of all kinds.

Like "shibui." From Mr. Genn's May newsletter "Shibui is a broad term that can mean irregularity of form, openness to nature, roughness of texture, and the naturalness of daily life. Also known as Shibusa, it refers as well to the Japanese "Seven aspects of being," which are simplicity, implicitness, modesty, silence, naturalness, roughness and normalcy. It's seen in raku pottery, architecture, folk crafts, haiku, gardens and painting. Shibui is worth thinking about no matter where you are or what your art."

Sharing this particular newsletter topic with my road trip buddy, Carroll, she began lamenting that she had zero artistic tendencies. I vehemently disagreed. She is a fabulous cook, putting the term "shibui" into play with each dollop of cream or sprinkle of herb. Rarely does she use a cookbook, choosing instead to pull culinary masterpieces together from what's in the cupboard on any given day. She does this successfully day after day with yummy results. THAT is artistic, as are her cottage gardens that are delightful paintings of blossoms sprouting up randomly and sporadically through flagstone pathways. Man...can you get any more artistic than that? I think not. Cooking and gardening are shibui in action.

Had I known of this term before I might have titled my blog "Shibui." Many of you are aware of the inner struggle I'm having with whether to keep my blog random or reign it in to one subject. However, Life blesses me with so many lessons each day that I just can't hold it all in. One day I'm compelled to write about a family member and another day some bold insight comes to me during a walk and I have to share it. My thought process is irregular in form. Obviously, I'm extraordinarily open to nature. I'm drawn to roughness of textures, whether tree bark, surfaces of stones or pollen covering a bee's legs. These details and patterns tell a deeper part of nature's stories and reflect the naturalness of daily life.

My blog is an artistic outlet for me. Blending music and photos with writing feeds a need deep within my soul. Further, communicating with like minds and meeting people around the world deposits another layer to my personality and character. My blog shall remain random and will remain Giraffe Head Tree as the concept of shibui will always be in the back of my mind.

If you are interested please do check out The Painter's Keys and sign up. I promise you will not be disappointed.

Peace.

Class is in session

I'm a sucker for a lovely Sycamore tree. Glorious textured, shedding bark reveals a gleaming white, smooth surface beneath. Shades of browns, greens and grays frame the white in my idea of irregular perfection.

A Sycamore can be spotted miles away during the winter months with ease because the crown of the tree is mostly stark white. Their leaves are massive, shaped roughly like a maple leaf. After they drop in autumn you'll find them curled up like a baby ready for winter's sleep, and they're a beautiful chocolate brown that is soft, almost like velvet.

This particular Sycamore tree is located in a pretty little side yard of our local community college. I signed up for a couple of classes - one on digital photography, the other on Photoshop CS3. Being self-taught I recognize fully that I need to fill in the blanks and round out the edges of my knowledge. Last week we took some new-found skills outside and played in the courtyard. There, in the setting sun was this glorious, glowing Sycamore just waiting for me.

Sycamore trees have a fascinating way of exposing their beauty. Yes, their trunks are stunning, especially in autumn with a cobalt blue sky behind them. The shot, above, was taken during an autumn run to a local nursery and you can see how striking the trunk of the Sycamore is as compared to the other trees. Sycamore tree roots have the same characteristics as the rest of the tree. Rising above the ground in various and sundry fascinating patterns are these tree roots. These roots are no doubt the bane of some grounds maintenance guy, but for a photographer this is sheer heaven.

This is one of my favorite shots - and I haven't even turned it in to teacher yet. These exposed roots are just like the tree itself, with a trunk and branches. Reading about Sycamores on Wikipedia, I learned that every tree's bark must expand as the tree grows, but Shagbark Hickory, some maples and the Sycamore are examples of those who exhibit that process more openly than others. Apparently, it is due to the rigid texture of their bark which lacks the necessary component to expand that creates the shagginess.

It's nice learning about tree structures and the like, but basically the draw for me is the outward personality and character of a Sycamore. They're different, and they glow in the sunset and are such fun to photograph.

Mental Health Day

Yesterday I took a Mental Health Day. Turning off the computer I donned hiking boots, grabbed bottled water and my camera and headed out into the wilds. Dave Matthews crooning in my ears, my shoulders began to relax the further I drove. The day was slightly overcast but temperate, only requiring a light jacket. There was no plan necessarily, except hoping to find bald eagles, or maybe heading to the state park to watch the deer. Lately, my photographic efforts tend toward the hunt and capture of some elusive creature rather than shooting static landscapes. It's a phase - always happens during the migratory season when you never know what bird you'll see out the window. This cute little female bluebird stopped and literally posed for me. Is she cute, or what?

Case in point. We've been innundated with several varieties of gulls on our lake. I'm not interested enough in them to track down what species I'm seeing, but they are very entertaining. About this time last year we had what we called The Weekend Of The Gazillion Gulls. We always have lots of gulls, but for three days it looked like a snow blizzard on the lake every single second for three days. They were everywhere, dipping and darting, floating on the surface, perching on boat houses and slips. Mostly Ring-Billed Gulls (I DID look these guys up, it was such an unusual event), which are quite large. Their calls were constant and loud; we could hear them in the house. ANYWAY, I'm digressing. Yesterday my husband is staring out the window toward the lake and said "What are those birds DOING?" A bunch of gulls were feeding on what we guessed to be a school of minnows. The loons were trying to cash in as well. Here's one shot of many. Okay. I had to get outside. The birds were calling me. Back to my mini-road trip. Pulling into a large gravelled area below the dam, the designated bird watching area was practically deserted. Sounds of gulls reached my ears when the car's engine was silenced. Aaaahhh....how peaceful. Gulls and cormorants and coots were floating around in front of me - the usual dam birds. (LOL)

I grab camera and keys, locking the door began to walk around. Immediately, I spy something unexpected and almost couldn't breathe - the American White Pelicans were here!!! Folks, this is rare. This is only the 2nd year I've been fortunate enough to see them. Amazingly, they were completely unfathed by my presence and I got some great shots. Here are some good ones.

They kinda speak for themselves, these photos. What beautiful birds! I was extraordinarily blessed to see them, and get close enough (with my 100-400 zoom) to immortalize them and share with friends. Fishermen and their boats began coming to shore as rain was moving in, their presence disturbed the pelicans who flew closer to the dam. The rain and their movement away was a signal it was time to return to the real world, leaving my pelican pals to enjoy their fishes.

Watching these huge white birds I thought about our friend John, Born Again Bird Watcher, who is sick with pneumonia. This post is for him - get well soon, John!