Categories
Photography

Phantoms in the Photographs

As I was building my albums in my new photo gallery, I noticed that very, very few of my photographs have people in them. And if people are present, they’re distant, anonymous, face hidden from the camera.

I didn’t, consciously set out to stage photographs in such a way that no human is in them. However, I have found myself, time and again, holding on a shot until a person is no longer in the frame, even if the person could add to the picture. For instance, when taking a group of rocks in the desert, putting a person into the scene adds depth and perspective. Still, I hold on the shot until it is people free.

My people-less photography has nothing to do with photographic preference, as I love ‘people’ photographs. When I lived in San Francisco, the frame and art gallery across the street from my condo used to feature wonderful B&W; male nudes, usually showing one man against a natural background, such as amidst rocks at the ocean. And there was a set of photographs from years ago of naked women who were painted so that it looked like they were wearing clothes. My memory is fragmented, but I believe the photos were for Vogue. I think these were fascinating, and beautifully staged and colored.

I have, also, long admired those who can capture the essence of a person, or of the human experience, in just one photo, be it a portrait or a scene. It’s an extraordinary gift.

However, the more I work with my photography, the more I’m finding that, for me, the photograph isn’t the end in itself. Each picture is nothing more than a stage, a backdrop for a story waiting for the actors.

Either that or I see my world populated only by phantoms.

Categories
Photography Weather Weblogging

End of the season

The states bordering Missouri have been blasted by some unusual weather including an outbreak of tornados. It was interesting watching the storms fold around St. Louis, leaving us virtually untouched. This city really is located in a sweet spot, escaping most of the weather outbreaks, at least for now. The only impact on us was a little rain and enough wind to knock the leaves off the trees. Fall is over for the year.

fall photo from tower grove

Speaking of Fall, my friend Chris Locke isn’t the only weblogger in the neighborhood with a birthday this month. The great thing about birthdays is no matter how old you are, a birthday is always better than the alternative.

black and white photo of an old tree

Up with life, but down with gravity.

Categories
Photography

Wrapped in the warmth of glory

I like walking at twilight. One can think without being interrupted by joggers running past, plastic workout pants rustling as they rush by; or couples out for a nature walk, talking about anything but nature, looking anywhere except at a tree. Only the serious come out to the forest at twilight.

muted fall and walls

During one walk last week, deer appeared here and there all along the trail, starting with the two buck wondering in the bushes close to the trail as soon as I crossed the bridge entering the preserve; ending with several deer around a watering hole near the end — mere mists of gray against a night darkened forest.

deer peeking around cornerAt one point I was walking down a steep hill and a doe, startled by my sudden appearance, burst out of a bush right next to the road and started to run. For some reason, I called out to her. And for some unknown reason, she stopped, turned around and looked at me. We stood there a moment looking at each other until she slowly turned away and re-entered the forest.

I did meet a few people during this particular walk. One woman and I both paused at the same time in front of of a hillside, several deer dotting its slopes. We looked at each other and smiled — what more needs be said? At another bend in the trail, when I was watching yet another deer, a guy walked past and said quietly, “Pretty, aren’t they?” I answered, “Yuh.”

Witty repartee in the woods.

fall6.jpg

I went back to the trail today to check out the fall foliage. The woods were beginning to get colorful last week, but I wasn’t prepared for what I saw today. As I drove up old Highway 66 heading to the preserve, I almost wrecked the car when I drove over a hill and the forest unfolded in front of me all at once. Brilliant, brilliant color, everywhere. Scarlet, gold, orange, green, browns, and every nuance of shade in-between.

When I entered the forest, it was like being wrapped in the warmth of glory.

Surrounded by such vivid colors one almost doesn’t feel the chill of the Fall air, but today’s walk was cold, so much colder than last week. Because I was there earlier in the day, not many creatures were about; a few squirrels and birds, but no deer. Nature gives its treats out sparingly: deer or fall colors.

During the walk, I would stop under the large trees when the wind blew, and let the leaves fall down around me as one would drop a curtain around a canary’s cage to stop its song. I stood with upturned face as they fell, faint whispers of sound moving past.

tree by river

Caution was required when walking today as the wet leaves on the paved surface of the trail made it very slippery in spots. I visualized myself falling, breaking something, unable to get out, calling weakly for help.

Well, no, this wouldn’t happen. I don’t break when I fall, I bruise a bit and bounce a bit, usually equal parts of both. And someone in plastic workout clothes would have come along directly; we could only hope they wouldn’t vault over me leaving me crying piteously in their wake.

However, the faux risk did give me the illusion of being “in the wild”.

Leaves by Monet

Today at the watering hole I found a dismal dark muddy green pool of water. How different it appeared from last week, when viewed in shades of night time gray, circled by deer with white around their eyes and flicked on their tails.

A curious thing happened during that twilight walk — I saw one of the deer scratch its neck with its back foot. I know this is a normal thing to do, all creatures scratch themselves. But in all the times I’ve seen deer, I’ve never been near enough to one in such a way that it was comfortable enough to do ordinary things, and I could see them.

fall7b.jpg

If I were a marketer I would say, “Yes ladies and gentlemen. You, too, can have peaceful moments, and be rained on by golden leaves, and look into the gentle brown eyes of a deer only feet away just for the low cost of…?” All this talk of money, and making money, when there’s so much around us and the only price we have to pay is a little of our time.

fall

Next week when I go back the leaves will be mostly gone, and the sun will finally have its way with the ground. The deer will move deeper into the woods to forage. Too soon, the forest and the bushes and the pond will lie under a blanket of white, and all will sleep.

fall10b.jpg

The deer says goodnight

Categories
Photography Writing

Deer Mountain

Not far from Babble Meadow is another Magic place: Deer Mountain. However, unlike the Meadow where People are not allowed, you and I can tread the Mountain — but the Mountain has to invite you, first. You can pout and you can bring money and you can show your card that says you’re an Important Person, but it’s the Mountain that decides if you enter, or not…

bridge

How do you find Deer Mountain? If you go straight that away from the Meadows and drive and drive for a bit until you see a small sign and turn in you’ll be at Deer Mountain. However, you won’t be at the Mountain itself unless you go at the exact right time of 10 minutes before Twilight. A minute north or south and you’ll miss it and all you’ll see is plants and trees and squirrels and you’ll have a nice hike, and your thighs will be trimmer. But you won’t see Magic.

Tonight, when I walked across the bridge from here to there, I knew between one step on the bridge and one step off that I was there at exactly 10 minutes of Twilight, and that the residents didn’t find me wanting — even though I only had pocket change and had no card that said I was an Important Person. I was on Deer Mountain. I knew as soon as I stepped off the bridge, and was met by the gatekeepers of the Mountain: two bucks, standing tall, proud, and unafraid.

(But then, they would be unafraid, wouldn’t they? They’re Magic and I’m mere mortal.)

I stopped and held my breath and watched the bucks as they slowly walked along, nibbling on grass and leaf, occasionally glancing at me with little concern. Finally though, one of them, the one with the more important set of antlers, told me, “Well, lady. Get on with ye now. The light’s fading.” He didn’t say this out loud, of course. Don’t be silly: deer can’t speak. He told me with his eyes.

buck

(Deer on Deer Mountain are very fluent with their eyes. They can converse in English, Russian, Spanish, Japanese, French, German, and even Swahili, though they speak Swahili with an accent — an ever so slight eyelid flutter.)

I walked along the trail that I knew but didn’t know because Magic misted the air around me. Crickets sounded in the shadows, and tiny scurrying things rustled the dry leaves. Cardinals would fly here and there, crossing the trail, scarlet red fading to gray as they receded into the distance.

I was walking down a steep hill when I heard a tremendous crash in the bushes next to the path. From them a doe burst out, both of us startled by each other’s presence. She gathered herself to run, and I called out to her, “No, don’t go. Please don’t go. I won’t hurt you.” Why did I call? It was the Magic, of course.

And she stopped. No more than my body length (me on the ground of course, stretched a bit, hair fluffed) away she stopped. And looked at me. How does the song go?

I looked at her and she looked at me and that’s the way I knew it would be…

I think both of us were equally surprised at her stopping. I fell silent and she started to run again, so I spoke again. “It’s all right. I won’t hurt you. Don’t go.” And again, she paused, uncertain. For a timeless moment we stood staring at each other, until she carefully turned away, crossing the trail and vanished into the bushes on the other side.

doe

The night was fast approaching, impatient at the sun’s tenacious grip on the day. (Leggo! Leggo!) As I walked I could hear the deer in the trees all around me. When I reached the creek I looked up the hill and there were several deer—soft gray movement against darker gray hillside, silhouetted against the light. They looked at me, briefly, as one looks up at someone noisy entering a restaurant and you’re in the midst of your dinner.

Do you mind?

As I stood and watched, entranced, a woman came running along the trail, plastic workout pants swish swish with each move. Swish, swish. She looked neither right at the creek nor left at the deer. Swish, swish. Nor at me, if truth be told. Arms pumping, feet rapidly stepping, caught in an unbroken pace, vision determinedly inward. (No doubt she was imagining calories popping off her body like fleas jump off a dog in water. Swish, swish. Ten calories. Swish, swish. Twenty calories. Swish, swish. Bite of candy bar).

Both the deer and I looked at her as she ran past but she didn’t see us.

The night was winning its battle and I knew I had to move on. All around me the sounds of the forest were changing into those of the night rhythms. No one else was about and since I had no light it was becoming increasingly difficult to see anything other than the path in front of me. I increased my pace, even up hills thought the effort left me puffing. I felt that my time with the deer was over because I could no longer hear them around me or sense their presence in the bush next to the path. However, I was to discover why when I reached a fork in the trail.

deer against light

Surrounding a small pond—really nothing more than a watering hole pretending to be important—there were deer and deer and deer. Deer drinking the water. Deer lazily pulling at the weeds. Deer nudging each other, sniffing the air, scratching their necks with back feet. All looking at me. Looking at me.

The dirt around the water was almost white, and I could see the deer as smudges of smoke against its lightness, with pale rings of white around eyes, slashes of white on tails. I couldn’t count the number because the light was being tricky, turning shadow into real and real into shadow. But they — shadows and deer — were everywhere.

The moment was priceless and I had my camera and itched, veritably itched, to take a photo. There was too little light and the only way the picture would take is if I used my flash. But I knew that my flash would be a harsh report in the night, startling the deer, driving them away. I would get my photo, but the Magic would be ruined. Gone.

I weighed the decision in my mind — the desire to share the experience with you, and the need to keep the Magic. In the end Magic won because at that moment, it was more real than you.

A few steps more and I was nearing the end of the path. The darkening forest gently but firmly pushed me towards the bridge, as a host would lead a guest who has overstayed their welcome to the door. It’s been lovely to see you, do drop by again sometime. Get out now.

And as I drove home, lost in wonder, I topped a hill and in the sky, huge and golden, the harvest moon looked down on me.


deer5.jpg

Categories
Photography

XKrispy XKreme at Babble Meadow

There’s something close and secretive about the St. Louis parks, an otherworldly quality that strongly appeals to me. Last week I took photos at Laumieir Sculpture park at dusk and I was the only person among the paths and the sculptures set in odd corners. Echoing my footsteps was the rustle of bushes and dead leaves from squirrels running from my approach. I knew the reason for the noise, but that didn’t stop the impression of a ghostly companion paralleling my movement in the darkening forest around me.

Spooky. A bit scary. Wonderful.

The photos used in The Parable of Languages are from Tower Grove park in St. Louis, an amazing place full of trees, streams, lily ponds, interesting buildings and odd gazebos, and faux ruins complete with lake and fountain — a true Victorian park. It was love at first sight, so expect more from Babble Meadow in the future.


water lilies and reflected tree