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Yesterday was a dark and stormy day, but I ventured out anyway. You see, when people ask how I manage to get the images I get, the answer is you have to put yourself in the place and time when they appear. Because "In the right light, at the right time, everything is extraordinary". ~Aaron Rose

If that time is in the pouring rain then so be it.

But it's not all about the photography, sometimes it's just being out there. A time away a time to tune out the roar and listen for the silence. I have talked many times about this because I need it, we all need it but some don't go find it and live their lives in the turmoil of 'modern living'

I cannot, even on a day like yesterday

You see there is no 'bad' weather just poor preparation . Yesterday was all about rain gear, from hat to boots, waterproof everything.
Proper dress means that you can enjoy the day.

In the woods on a day such as yesterday there is a peace. The rain falls softly here onto the leaf strewn ground, sometimes fast staccato bursts other times a gentle pitter patter while high above the wind moans.
Not many animals or birds venture out but the occasional chirp or rustling makes you aware of their presence. We are never truly alone.

Standing by the pond, sheltered by the tree's I watch as the sleet, driven by the wind dances across the water. A constant, yet changing pattern dictated by the whims of the wind. I go closer and watch as fallen leaves are pushed from the lee of the shore out into the maelstrom.

It sure beats TV!

"Sunshine is delicious, rain is refreshing, wind braces us up, snow is exhilarating; there is really no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather." ~John Ruskin

It was a long, tiring weekend.
Seven of us, all members of the Guelph Photographers Guild, put on a show at the Guelph Studio Tour. We were at Dublin St Church where we cleared the Hallman Room and set up our booths.At 7:00 pm the doors were officially opened and the crowds rushed in...well OK the crowds trickled in in one's and two's ...We had about 20 visitors all with positive responses to our work with 2 sales made on opening night !

A good start

We knew Saturday would be a killer.On your feet from 10:00-6:00 in a stuffy, hot room.But I lost count, early on, of the number of visitors we had. A constant stream sometimes overwhelming, sometimes ones and two's with very few breaks.
Not that I am complaining.We all made sales, some more than others. Ken certainly rose to the occasion on his first time as part of the tour, chatting to everyone who came near and sold 3 images by the end of the day In between selling Stephen was busy giving info and direction to prospective Guild members.Sunday was a little easier, the doors opened at 11:00 am. And after a short lull people flocked in, some returned to make purchases previously viewed on Friday or Saturday. Others dropped in after church all seemed genuinely interested in our displays with many encouraging comments. Sales would have been better but ...

I look upon these things as a networking opportunity and gave out about 60-70 cards and directed several people to Stephen who talked to them about Guild Membership.

By 4:00 pm the crowds were dwindling and the last hour was difficult. Tired and sore from standing all weekend it was hard to keep focused with no one in the room but we made it through and started to talk of next year when we can do it all over again....

"Seventy percent of success in life is showing up". ~Woody Allen

How long do you stand and wait?

Minutes, seconds, hours, months?

You, yes you laddie (tip of the hat to Pink Floyd and 'The Wall), call yourself a photographer ? When all you do is drive by, have a quick look at a scene, maybe fire off a shot or two and be on your way?

Photography is an art of patience, sometimes we forget that just because we record that fleeting moment in an instant doesn't mean that we did not have to wait for that moment to arrive.

A case in point..

On Saturday morning we stole a few hours to drive the back roads looking for fog.

Having found a suitable location we waited, recording a few images yes but waiting. You see we were after the sunrise, that one moment when it crested the tree's and began to flood the valley with light. Several images were taken as the moment came and went.

But that isn't all, you see we also wait to see what else happens, not only in this one spot but in this local area.
Maybe not for today but for how a future sunrise will affect the scene. For tomorrow is different from today but the information is stored away for another time and we will be back to stand and wait in expectation. Waiting for the moment that we envisage to (hopefully) materialise.

My friend Patrick has taught me that and constantly reminds me.
I think it has made me a better observer therefore a better photographer.

Patience ...

Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

It has been a rough couple of weeks.
A death in the family made for some emotionally charged times..

On September 24 my Father-in-Law of over 25 years, Frank was finally released from his long battle with cancer. He had been cared for at home by my Mother-in-Law Doris for as long as she could manage. His final days were at Carpenter House Hospice in Burlington.
Throughout this time his spirit was unbroken as witnessed by us all ..

No complaints, no regrets just a simple statement which summed up the man;

" I am truly blessed to have had such a wonderful family"

I hope I can have that sort of dignity and strength of character.

At his Memorial I was asked to read a poem, it serves as my quote for this week;

"When I come to the end of the road
And the sun has set on me
I want no rites in a gloom filled room
Why cry for a soul set free?
Miss me a little - but not too long
And not with your head bowed low
Remember the love that we once shared
Miss me -but let me go
This is journey we all must make
And each must go alone
It's all a part of the Master's plan
A step on the road to home
When you are alone and sick at heart
Go to the friends you know
And bury your sorrow in doing good deeds
Miss me - but let me go."

` Author unknown

He will be sorely missed by us all

The woods, I can never get enough of the time I spend there. It doesn’t have to be far they just have to ‘be’.
Saturday morning began with an early start, on the road at 6:15am and off to the Silvercreek Trails. It was just as well we started early as the old bridge road was closed. They were repairing the approach to the bridge and ‘renewing’ the bridge itself..
‘Renewing’ meant ‘replacing’ and although they were trying I don’t think the place will ever be the same.
Locals we spoke to either refused to go and look or suspected the same as I. The old bridge was gone, to be replaced by a replica.
But at least it isn’t one of those concrete slab monstrosities that are functional yet soulless
I digress, back to the woods ...

All week long we have had fog and it did last until Saturday. Except not in the woods but the call of the falls and the singing of the brook upstream from the falls was a siren song not to be denied. Too much time was spent here and by the time we emerged the fog was gone.
However for a very brief moment the fog tried to filter in through the tree’s and for that moment the magic unfolded. My photo of the week is my attempt at recreating what I saw, felt and heard.
A colour image did not nearly convey all that but the honesty of Black and White, with a hint of sepia did.

Yes we may have tarried too long and missed most of what we were originally seeking but ,as often happens, it was replaced by something more meaningful.
An image of tree’s slowly melting into the mist...

‘There is a way that nature speaks, that land speaks. Most of the time we are simply not patient enough, quiet enough to pay attention to the story.” ~Linda Hogan

Is everyone turning to art?

I was talking to a fellow photographer yesterday and the subject of painting came up. Once more the truth emerged, "yes I have a box full of paints and brushes that have sat unused for many years...."

It seems that every week I find a frustrated artist amongst my fellow photographers.

So why did they put down the brush and pencil?
And why years later do they begin to explore these other mediums of expression?

I don't have the answer, not even for myself. My box(es) of paints, pencils, pens
et al have sat ignored for almost fifteen years. but recently their siren song was becoming too much to ignore.
I dusted off the books and boxes went back through my sketch books reliving times when the kids were young and the world was different and I began taking those tentative steps again.

Recently I spoke of the tangible 'feelings' of beginning a new sketch / drawing.
A beginning that is so foreign to the world of photography.
No matter how we approach our hobby it is still mechanical, cold even and completed in an instant.
Creating a drawing/painting/sketch is different, it takes time and a greater degree of involvement and concentration this in itself is an escape.

Is this what we 'frustrated artists' are looking for as we begin to explore or re-discover the simpler process of putting pen to paper,?
An escape?

One friend began this journey having never sketched anything, ever.
He didn't think he could draw but that didn't stop the creative urge.

Another has begun exploring watercolour (arguably the most difficult of mediums) as an outlet for his creativity. In his words "photography is getting complicated"

Maybe that's it, maybe we are seeking a simpler avenue of expression. After all the neolithic caveman felt the need to express himself and record the world around him. This creative need, runs deep and for some, cannot be denied. No matter the medium we choose it makes us who we are, it completes us, it sets us free.

"What art offers is space - a certain breathing room for the spirit". ~John Updike

I had a Discussion yesterday:

Noise

That all invasive, never ending racket that surrounds us, day in, day out.
And how some are immune or at least have learned to ignore it the latter being more truthful I think.

Unfortunately I cannot ignore it I wish it were that easy but there is a place where 'the noise' recedes and and other more favourable noise comes to the fore.

Yesterday I stood in the Fall woods listening to the noise but
this noise was a welcome noise

This noise was natural
This noise soothes
This noise opens the mind, clears the senses and allows the muses to visit
This noise .....

... The wind high in the Fall tree's, speaking of things to come.
In its rustling there are whispers of winter winds and soft snowy days

... The brook sings with laughter and babbles off to join other brooks that will join rivers and they will head back to the sea.
And as it goes it tells tales of what was. Tales of spring when it was released from Winters icy grip and was allowed to flow, unfettered once again.

... The lowly Chickadee sings his song, a different song from the one he sings in the Spring when his world is full of promise and easy days.

.. The Blue Jay calls out a warning that nothing is permanent and the woods are changing once again.

... The squirrel clattering through the tree's and across the leaf covered ground searching, ever searching for he knows what is coming and his industry reminds me to prepare.

All this noise washes away the man made noise that fills our ears and minds. The roar of traffic is still there but is muffled beyond recognition, Mother Nature has control here and she will not let 'man' interfere.

And if you stand, silently and let her song come to you maybe, just maybe you will learn something of yourself and the world around you....

.... "It is only when we silent the blaring sounds of our daily existence that we can finally hear the whispers of truth that life reveals to us, as it stands knocking on the doorsteps of our hearts." ~K.T. Jong

The wheel turns, and Autumn is upon us, the ending of another cycle of the year.
Not only for the plants but also for one of us.

The wheel of life is coming full circle for one special person, a person whom I have looked up to and respected for almost 30 years.

Frank is my Father-in-Law and I consider myself lucky to have known such a man for so long.
Yes it’s hard to watch him slowly succumb to cancer but I find strength in the knowing that he will live on in the hearts and minds of those who know him; his family, friends, co-workers and acquaintances.

Yes I know it comes to us all eventually and I hope that I can be remembered for the same reasons as I will remember Frank.

Some may think it premature to talk this way ‘before’ but he and I have had ‘the’ conversations he knows how I feel about him and more importantly I know he knows.
And in the knowing I find peace and comfort .
I hope that he feels the same.

To you I say if you have not had the conversations with your loved ones do it, do it now.

They are not easy but you too will know and they will know that you know....

“The one red leaf, the last of its clan,
That dances as often as dance it can,
Hanging so light, and hanging so high,
On the topmost twig that looks up at the sky.”
~Samuel Taylor Coleridge

I must admit I am quite enjoying my return to my sketch books and pencils.

There is something relaxing in just sitting quietly and taking in the scenery, pencil in hand, paper at the ready, waiting for inspiration.

So different from the time I take to survey a scene to photograph it.
The very action of photographing is so fast, whereas the act of drawing is without doubt the antithesis of the photographic process.

This morning I sat in the Japanese Garden at the U of G, feeling the breeze, listening to the water splashing and tumbling over the rocks in the reflecting pool and staring at a section of the Zen Garden.
Something had caught my eye, something was calling.

The photograph took a split second and that was something that used to be satisfying enough, just a split second, ‘click’ and I would be on my way.

Not this time ...
This time I reached into my bag for my sketch book and pencils. In the doing, somehow my senses became heightened ...
The smell of the wood as I sharpened my pencil,
The sound of the paper as I opened the book.
The anticipation of that first stroke, the graphite trail ...

The sketch took many minutes, tens of minutes actually and this was infinitely more satisfying but why?

I thought about this afterwards and I think it is in the doing, the time it takes, the thought, the concentration, the preparation.
I think the very act of taking more time to create something is satisfying and the longer it takes the more satisfying the endeavour.

Savouring the time spent is probably a good way of expressing it.

And I look forward to doing it again because ....

”Everyone must take time to sit and watch the leaves turn”. ~Elizabeth Lawrence

There is a spot in my closet where a long forgotten collection of paper, books, pens and brushes reside. It’s been about 20 years since I have listened to their whispers.

“We are here, come take us down from this shelf, rediscover the simple pleasures we can bring....”

Recently the call became more insistent, harder to ignore. It did not help that a friend was exploring the world of sketching to try to improve his vision and take his photography to the next level.

Discussions over tea were no longer only about photography they were about pens, papers, methods and techniques.

So the books came down off the shelf, the pencils sharpened, the first furtive strokes on a blank piece of paper were taken.

Slowly the muscles of my hand remembered and the lines became more sure.

This weekend as I packed my photo gear for an outing, I packed pencils and a sketchbook.

Would I use them?

Well time would tell...

Doug provided the spark as he bravely put down his camera and found a spot overlooking the falls at Everton and took out his sketchpad.

I knew where I wanted to sit long before I arrived at this place, down by the outflow where there is a nice cedar stretching for the sun as it grows out of what seems like bare rock.

The pencils were chosen, a brand new sketchbook opened and time stopped...

I don’t know how long I sat there, listening to the water, the birds, the breeze and drawing all of it.

Doug was no help he was in his own world, Patrick was the same albeit with a camera.

Eventually, with a cold foot (it was in the river) and a numb bum from sitting on a rock too long I rejoined my companions for tea and chatter.

What a day, what a place, what a journey back in time to relive the simple joy of doing nothing ....

“When my daughter was about seven years old, she asked me one day what I did at work. I told her I worked at the college - that my job was to teach people how to draw. She stared at me, incredulous, and said, "You mean they forget?" ~Howard Ikemoto