Figure 1 – Ring necked duck on Fresh Pond, Cambridge, MA. (c) DE Wolf 2014.

The rangers at Cambridge’s Fresh Pond Reservoir don’t make photographing the water fowl easy. Access to the pond is everywhere blocked by fences, and except in very limited places these fences are above my head. I am guessing that these fences were not around when Teddy Roosevelt skated on the pond!

As we’ve moved into fall the water birds, the ducks and geese, not to mention a few confused seagulls (You must take Madame Arkadina away from here; what I wanted to say was, that Constantine has shot himself. ), have started showing up in abundance; so the temptation to photograph them is pretty strong. It was strong enough that yesterday I not only tested the limits of my ability to hand-hold my 200 mm lens, but I also thought I would see if by putting the lens up to a hole in the fencing I could still get a decent picture. The answer to both questions turned out to be, yes, I can.

The quality of the light was amazing. A breeze was causing the water to ripple, which to my eye gave the image a sense at once of motion and stillness. The light was intensely specular, and the color of a powder blue sky was strongly reflected in the water.

My specific quarry was a ring necked duck (Aythya collaris). This bird was a bit farther off than really capturable at high resolution with the 200 mm lens. The eye is sharp as is the bill, but in general I only call it a complete success when I can see the details of the feathers. It was a situation that definitely calls for a longer lens. And the fact that I was hand-holding meant that I had to use a high (1600 IS) which added a lot of grain because I had to do some very serious cropping.

However, what I find appealing about the result is how much like a watercolor it looks. Hmm! I look at the picture and I cannot quite figure out if it was photographed or painted and it is that ambiguity that draws me to the image.

Canon T2i with EF70-200mm f/4L USM Lens at 200 mm, ISO 1600, Aperture-Priority AE Mode 1/1600th. sec at f/13.0 with no exposure compensation.

Figure 1 – Sumac, Cambridge, MA. (c) DE Wolf 2014.

I have been facing the dawn each morning, driving through an amazing canopy of color and contemplating the subtle glow of the sunrise.  It truly gives one pause.  My lunchtime walks have been equally contemplative and chromatic.  The sequence of autumn is regal, and every few days some other tree takes center stage in the parade.  There is a certain equality about it.  In this regard nature is truly egalitarian.  The meanest of plants can suddenly come into their own and demand your eye.

The first example is the poison ivy.  It has been hiding, well not really as I am ever cautious of it, all summer.  But they other day it was the turn of the sumac bushes.  They had such an intense color that was so tropical in nature as they made the transition from green to red and yellow that I had to revisit them on a second day to be sure that I wasn’t insanely exaggerating the color of Figure 1.  Soon these too will fade and shed to become first matting underfoot and then next spring, after the winter snows, they will be so much mulch for a new botanical generation.  In the meanwhile I turn to other color.

Figure 1 – A Tribute to Piranasi, Madison, WI. (c) DE Wolf 2014.

Circumventing the interior of the Wisconsin State House I was struck by the multitude of columns, arches, and circles, by the light of the sky piercing in through the dome combined with the lamps and the atmospheric darkness.  It reminded me so much of an architectural etch by Giovanni Battista Piranesi (1720-1778).  And it was just this etching quality that I sought to capture in the image of Figure1. I think that both the toning and the graininess of the light at ISO 3200 both lend to the sense of ink.  To include as many of the architectural features as I could I used the widest lens setting I had 18.0 mm. I feel that it is almost like a bromoil print and is exactly what I wanted.

Canon T2i with EF-S18-55mm f/3.5-5.6 IS STM Lens at 18.0 mm, ISO 3200, Aperture- Priority AE mode at 1/200th sec at f/4.0 with no exposure compensation.

Figure 1 – The Last Water Lily, Olbrich Botanical Gardens, Madison, WI. (c) DE Wolf 2014.

We seem to attach special significance to the first and to the last, to the alpha and to the omega.  I’ve had an ongoing theme in this blog about photographic firsts and recently I posted about fall’s first color – and it is proving to be a very glorious fall here.  Well, we are in the thick of it now.  Fall color is everywhere, even though some hardy flowers persist.  But last Sunday on my adventure to the Olbrich Botanical Gardens in Madison, WI something struck me.

It was a chilly and grey day, with little to really remind one of summer.  There is this little reflecting pool, which now bears only the remnants of water lilies, and even these had started to turn a shade of red.  So as I stared into the dull water, I was thinking about glacial verves – appropriate since  Wisconsin has a glaciation named after it.  These are the “rings of the Earth” fine bands of sediment that once settled annually when glacial lakes froze over in winter and now turned to stone. It seemed wholly appropriate, since the water lilly, Monet’s flower, is related spiritually, if not taxonomically, to the sacred lotus a symbol of life, death, and rebirth – of the endless cycle of life on Earth.

And then I saw it, and tried to capture the feeling in Figure 1.  There was one remaining water lily blossom – still ever so perfect.  It was in essence the last bloom of a summer now past. And it defiantly proclaimed the promise of spring.

Shesha the Five Headed Cobra, Olbrich Botanical Gardens, Madison, WI. (c) DE Wolf 2014.

I held at least one sculpture photograph back from my Saturday post. This is Figure 1. Also in the Thai Pavillion of the Olbrich Botanical Gardens in Madison is this wonderful five headed cobra.  This is the first perspective that I photographed it from and it only shows four of the five heads.  I took several other images slowly progressing to full frontal with all heads shown.  But in the end I found that I liked the drama of first perspective best.

And exactly what is this an allusion to?  We have in the mythologies of the world many multiheaded beasts. There is Cerberus the usually three headed dog that guarded the gates of Hades, the underworld in Greek and Roman mythology.  Then we have the Whore of Babylon who rides the seven headed beast at the time of the Christian Last Judgment. But this, I believe, is the Hindu Shesha, (see also the Buddhist nāga) also known as Sheshanaga, who holds the universe on his hoods and constantly from all his mouths exclaims the glory of Vishnu. And most beautifully, it is said that his uncoiling is the creative event that causes time to move forward but when he recoils the universe ceases to exist.

This I think explains why there is serenity not terror in this wonderful sculpture.  The quality of stone, particularly the speckles is to me amazing. It serves to animate the serpent as it emerges from a galaxy of stars. Both in its relationship with the origin and meaning of time and its connection with stellar evolution, the Shesha seems, in my mind, to merge ancient and modern concepts of cosmogony.