"Dragon Fire"

As I meandered through Chinatown, the many signs and unique smells almost made me forget I was still in the city. The “Suns”, a local group of dancers and musicians, were preparing for the parade. They planned to stop at various businesses in the area and offer a blessing for the coming year. There was a brightly colored dragon which was serpentine in its shape and length. To create movement, there were dancers under the dragon that bobbed and weaved from sidewalk to sidewalk. The other elaborately decorated dragons were manipulated by groups of 2 that made their way to designated store fronts throughout the morning. This signaled a whirlwind of choreographed movements that symbolized bestowing a blessing onto the stores. The deafening sound of firecrackers mixed with drums, moved me in a crisscrossing pattern. Crowds were led by the smoke and the undulating progress of the dragon dancers while I attempted to capture the essence of what was happening. Looking around at the people watching this spectacle, I could see wonder and awe in the children’s faces, contrasted by a sense of pride from the older hierarchy.

Whatever way the new year is celebrated around the world, in Chinatown, the “Year of the Dragon” was set to a drum beat and punctuated with a bang. Whether a participant or spectator — just being there and sharing the moment was a blessing in itself.

To create with one’s hands, whether a painting, sculpture or other object, has always been  something that held me in awe. It is true I use my hands to create pictures, but in reality, I am capturing the images of objects that my eye sees. When someone takes a piece of clay and transforms that most basic element into a creative design, then that someone becomes an artist.

I visited an exhibit where two such artisans showcased  their work and also gave a demonstration on how they performed their skills. I talked to the potter, while he was setting up, and asked for permission to shoot his work. His name was Glenn Hudson and, how lucky can one be, he was also a photographer. We talked mostly about pictures and how he came to be a potter. Then as he started his demo, I was so entranced by how he became one with the clay. The process seemed organic and what started out slow, quickly evolved to reveal beautiful shapes. His hands and the wheel worked the clay into smooth symmetrical forms, right there in front of my lens. I found myself going back and forth with what was on his wheel and the anticipated finished piece. Often I hesitated to click my shutter in fear of disturbing what seemed like a magical moment.

His tools were his hands, but in reality it was his imagination and inner soul that exposed the clay before him. With his hands he created not just a bowl or pot, but a work of art…. ultimately an expression of heart, mind and hands.

"Frozen"

Besides the obvious cold… winter can be magical. It’s mesmerizing to see how frost can capture nature in frigid moments. You can get lost in all the icy mosaics that are formed in trees and fields while, ponds and lakes take on a more abstract look. The swirls and bubbles that are frozen in time make for very creative patterns.  Where I live, snow fall can be elusive as it comes in either knee-deep drifts, or a lite dusting. Its silent presence is breath-taking, in more ways than one.   I find the experience of shooting during a snowfall to be very different then that of shooting the aftermath. Fresh snow seems to evoke a quiet, eerie otherworldly feeling. The size and rate of its descent can also have a dramatic effect on a composition so much so that, the final photograph can turn out very different then what was originally seen.

How do you capture this feeling in a photograph? Do you show the romantic side or its twisted finale. I found I could not choose. Just as my feelings and moods change, so do the cold frozen moments that materialize in front of my lens. I must eventually rely on form and contrast to guide me. It is helpful to stop and take it all in, feel the tiny flakes melt on your face, let your breath fog things up—- eventually you experience a more visual energy.  I,  like my subjects,  also feel the cold settle in and slow my movements.  My time here is done, but my photographs will hopefully freeze this time of year for all to relive as…. we patiently count the days till the vernal equinox.

Here’s an excerpt:

The concert hall at the Sydney Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 12,000 times in 2011. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 4 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.

"Next Stop...Yesterday"

Old, useless, discarded… these words could be used to describe people or things. As I would never like to describe people in that sense, I will be describing things as in trains, trolleys and buses. They had seen better times and have been discarded to make way for newer models. To me this graveyard of useless vehicles became my treasure.

I was invited to shoot at “Shore Line Trolley Museum” in East Haven,CT, by two very creative professional photographers, Roman Kurywczak and Susan Candelario. We were there to shoot trains, some of them restored and others left to be worked on another day. While shooting,  I quickly became entranced by all the discarded heaps of metal. They seemed to ooze with history. The rust and decay became enticing abstracts. You could envision the memories of days gone by. Other shots transformed their past into an “Old is the new NEW”

There is comfort in the past, some would say we should have a greater appreciation of it. Old is not useless, for these trolleys and buses their time is now. I believe the past can give us a sense of stability. You can feel this as you walk between each of these relics. When I began, I didn’t know where I would end up. This is so true with my photography…. I began with one preconceived idea, and after arriving, this sense of place and of times gone, but not forgotten, transformed my vision into timeless treasures.

Click…click…click, that is my camera’s heartbeat.
Step…twirl…leap, can you hear the dancer’s feet.

Movement forever frozen by the click of a shutter.
Flow and expression released in a flutter.

Click… the rhythmic forms are created.
Captured and released, never anticipated.

Click …click…click, that is my heartbeat.

The focus of a moment gives way to the subtle
but unmistakable, mechanical … click.

Playful, sensual, moody…click… I feel the beat.

A visual and kinetic form become one,
it is my dance now.

CLICK…. the heartbeat of the photographer’s dance.

Photographs created in post. Taken during a workshop by Lois Greenfield in NYC.

"Zen Silhouette"

I had one of the more peaceful rides to a photo shoot that I have ever experienced. The road to Chincoteague started in New Jersey and ended in Virginia, by way of a ferry from Cape May across to Lewes, DE. The island of Chincoteague,VA came just before the Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge and was my destination for this trip. The refuge is home to wild horses, herons and many other species. Chincoteague Island is a meeting point for many migratory birds and would be my starting point for a surprising photographic opportunity.

The three days spent here were filled with history and the zen like solitude of a personal retreat. I never have had the patience to shoot birds… until now. The presence of many herons in one place was astounding. Trying to capture them hunting and flying, was all timing and being in the right place at the right time. Horses however, drifted in and out of reach the entire trip.

Two great sunrises and a very windy finish on the beach sealed the deal. There is something about a beautiful sunrise that puts my mind and body as one with nature. The brief wait for light to finally illuminate the horizon can be euphoric. Hearing waves break during a sunrise just adds a beautiful soundtrack to the whole process. Walking along the beach on my final day as the wind picked up, you could see the rhythmic natural patterns emerge from the sand. The tiny particles would build up on one side of an object and fall away on the other. But just as the birds had to eventually leave, I too, refreshed and re-energized, had to make my migration back home.

"Majestic"

The opportunity to take pictures sometimes can be both thought-provoking and time sensitive. I very rarely turn down an invite. Pat Worley, the SJCC’s trips coordinator, was told about a possible field trip to the Cedar Run Wildlife Refuge in Medford,NJ. Pat, being the organizational wiz she is, set a date and 19 of us participated.

I quickly found myself immersed in the background of the refuge and its inhabitants. Cedar Run takes in injured and abandoned wildlife. Their goal is to rehabilitate the hurt creatures and return them to the wild. Many times the animals cannot be returned because of severe enough injuries that would keep them from fending for themselves.

Our group split and took turns shooting the different species that were available. When viewing them through my lens, I found myself captivated by their  gaze. I tried different angles to get that special composition that would spotlight the subject. This isolation proved to be just what I was looking for. You can truly form both an appreciation and attachment to the subject and its surroundings.

Upon returning home to start the editing and developing process, I thought of the other photographers and what they were seeing. I then chose to transform my images into variations of the same picture. From black and white to HDR and even a sketch and watercolor finish, this metamorphosis from one image to another brought me back to the live animal I found originally staring at me through the lens. I felt reinvigorated by seeing different takes of the same subject.

See which one moves you, and touches your soul… it’s all in the eyes of the beholder.

The slideshow below shows the transitions of each subject. To stop the slides… just click the arrows.

"Autumn's Layers"

Autumn or fall, whatever your word of choice, it’s the time for nature’s colorful explosion. With this comes an expectation of change. The drop in temperature and the shift in time, signal the season. Fall can be very subtle, to outright in your face bursting with color. To further explore this new season, I traveled to the Canaan Valley of West Virginia at Blackwater Falls State Park. I was there on a photographic workshop run by Joe Rossbach and Alex Mody, two very creatively gifted and knowledgeable photographers. With their guidance and insight to the best that this area had to offer, I was off to find my own take on autumn’s splendor.

I was greeted by waterfalls with swirling eddies, to sweeping vistas of color that were back-lit by  overwhelmingly beautiful sunrises. This was by far the most stimulating environment I had visited in hopes of capturing the seasons glow. Morning mist presented a new visual experience for fall color, and I had to embrace a more subtle composition. With so many different hues, at times I was a bit hard pressed to separate the luminosity and create a unique vision of this time of the year.

The endless color combinations that stood out challenged my sense of place. But in the end, a true understanding of how the seasons change, came into focus. Front and center, far and wide, subtle and bursting, this autumn’s show proved to be both inspirational and a visual moment for me. Thanks to mother nature, I can once again view life thru my new ‘rose colored’ glasses.

I decided to join a meet-up group to shoot the Quickcheck Balloon Festival at Solburg Airport in Whitehorse,NJ. Having seen pictures of balloon events out west, I was curious about what I would experience here on the east coast. It rained the night before and the start of the day looked bleak. Lots of overcast skies and some rain were predicted. I thought that since my destination was over an hour’s drive away, maybe the weather would improve. The heavy clouds never cleared but the rain held off.

After parking my car, I took a long walk to a very large field filled with vans and trucks. Still no balloons in site. Then suddenly people came out of their vehicles, as if on cue, and unfolded large sheets of very colorful material which they spread out on the grass. Looking around, I still was not able to get a sense of what was coming next. Teams of helpers and pilots were starting to fill the deflated shapes by blowing air into them with fans. These huge fans were replaced by burners which heated up the air and made these colorful shapes rise.

And rise they did, from all over the field. The balloons transformed into many different shapes and sizes. There were balloons that took on the shape of a butterfly,cow and even a soda can. The many teams that launched these colorful wonders came from all over… Canada, out west and many from the east coast. The pilots of each balloon were very informative and gracious in answering my many inquiries. As I tried to maneuver to get a shot of the inside of these behemoths, the colors and patterns drew me in like a bug to light.

Everyone was excited to see them rise, if only to be stalled in mid-air by tethers attached to their trucks. Up, up and away was not to be this day. The cloud cover was too thick and the weather radar did not show much promise.  It felt like a sporting event paused in mid-air. Even though deflation was near, I did not feel deflated. This experience had lifted my spirits and left my mind’s eye free to capture the possibilities by chronicling the occasion.