Figure 1 – Concentric circles, Arlington, VA. IPhone photograph(c) DE Wolf 2017.

This past week I was down in Washington DC for work and I encountered  these concentric circle reliefs on the walls of one of the big conference rooms at my hotel. They are an architectural embellishment, but aesthetically very pleasing. Circles seem to invoke a spiritual sense. They seem to have a special meaning to us.

In a sense the circle is the simplest form of symmetry. Circles remind us of so many objects and concepts in nature:

1. the ripples of waves on water – the so-called Huygens’ wavelets
2. planetary orbits – the circle being the simplest ellipse
3. atomic orbitals
4. the celestial spheres

A critical point here, in relation to the photograph and to the list is that the rings are not evenly spaced but grow outward – appearing to obey some mathematical formula.

But I think that there is a much deeper meaning, which causes humans to relate so profoundly to circles. This is the maze at Chartres. As you enter the Cathedral, the great maze greets you. It mirrors exactly, in size, the great rose window that illuminates it from behind. The pilgrims would enter this place in the middle ages. They would fall on their knees and crawl without touching the black lines until you reached the center. If you touched you had to begin anew. The center is the central axis of the spiritual world – of the universe. The journey to the center, mirrors the pilgrimage. It is the journey of the Christ, of the Buddha, of the Hero of a Thousand Faces.

Figure 1 – Rutherford’s bartender, (c) DE Wolf 2017.

The great twentieth century physicist Ernest Rutherford famously stated that “A theory that you can’t explain to a bartender is probably no damn good.”And so I found myself, this afternoon, at the juncture between physics, well chemistry actually, and bartending and beer-making.When I took this photograph the bartender was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he was off in some corner communing with Lord Rutherford’s ghost. Perhaps Rutherford was testing his thesis, describing the Rutherford model of the atom, explaining the nature of the atomic nucleus, and the existence of the proton. Who knows?

Figure 1 – The IPhone alien. (c) DE Wolf 2017.

The other day I came upon this weird lamp with equally weird fluorescent light bulb in front of a mirror. The result was an unusual photograph for me, something very surreal and even alien. In some respect the eye struggles to recognize what it is looking at. Everything is out of context, and maybe that’s as good a definition of the surreal as any. The toning I chose verges on a sickly green. I love the way that the light seems to explode brilliantly. And finally there is my figure in the mirror. I am not hiding my face. But the IPhone does that automatically. It creates anonymity. Arguably cellphone cameras have become so commonplace that unlike their DSLR and point-and-shoot cousins basically blend in with the modern landscape.

Figure 1 – a water glass in the sunlight, Lincoln, MA. IPhone photograph. (c) DE Wolf 2017.

Figure 1, and IPhone photograph, shows the harsh refractions or shadows of a water glass projected onto a curved white plate.  I always love these light patterns, the lines, the distortions, even the little sparkles on the glass. Here I also set out to create a bit of confusion in the organization of the image. Just what is happening here? Why does the shadow of the glass appear to peel off? What is the white band on the lower left?

I spent a long time trying to decide between a pure black and white and a sepia tone. I worked both up and kept switching back and forth. In the end, I recognized that I loved the deep velvety chocolate tones of the deepest shadows. I can almost taste it! 

Figure 1 – Antique metal tins, Concord, MA. (c) DE Wolf 2017.

Metal tins are a fond remembrance of childhood. Now they have become antiques, we have become antiques. But there is nothing better than a favorite snack packaged in a metal tin that can than be used over again to store some treasure. When I was growing up we had a tin for Saltine crackers that was used for years as the family cracker box. You could always count on it to hold something yummy.

So I was delighted to come upon this display of antique  tins at a local bakery. They instantly evoked smells reminiscent of times passed. It has always struck me as curious how dominant the sense of smell is in remembering. Here too the colors are delightful, and your imagination stirs by the thoughts of what you might store inside.

Figure 1 – Wischla lapdog. (c) DE Wolf 2017.

I am still trying to surpass or at least equal my IPhone image of Steve the Bull Mastiff. So today I’d like to post an IPhone of my friend Kip’s wischla, Emma. Emma thinks that she is a lapdog and in this picture gives the name lapdog a new definition. She is in fact trying to push my knees apart so that she could climb up into my lap, which she, of course did. As always a great element of the IPhone is its ability to give you new perspectives which would be very hard to achieve with an SLR.

Figure 1 – Tulips with water bottle, still life, Lincoln, MA. IPhone photograph. (c) DE Wolf 2017.

We are having a February thaw in Massachusetts, and this is a good time to have it. The first of March, the beginning of meteorological spring is just around the corner. I have tried to capture the sense of expectation in Figure 1 – a still life of tulips and a water bottle. Nothing says spring in New England like tulips. The winter snow still covers the ground outside. But in contradiction, or at least in opposition, wWe have: warm temperatures, the sound of dripping, melting snow, and  sun streaming in the window back lighting the pastel glory of a bouquet of tulips and highlighting bubbles on in the water bottle like little stars. I love back-lighting translucent flower petals, it accentuates their beauty. I can just taste the coming spring.

Figure 1 – The orange and white scarf, Salem, MA. (c) DE Wolf 2017.

I have to admit that I took the image of Figure 1 because I liked the colors and the pattern of the orange and white scarf tossed essentially randomly on a table. I am very enamoured of photographing fabric. Yes, this is largely a matter of form, texture, and color. But there is something else, something that fabric and weaving, wool in particular, connotes. 

The story begins with the “Fates” of ancient Greek mythology, Moirai, the Fates of Greek mythology who control the Threads of Fate. Such beings are a common theme in European polytheistic religions. The Fates were often depicted as weavers of a tapestry on a loom. This tapestry dictates the destiny of men and women. It is foretold.

Wait, wait! Weaving the destiny of men. Is that not the story of Madame Defarge in Charles Dicken’s “A Tale of Two Cities?” She knits and her knitting contains the names of those who, come the revolution, will be executed. Very creepy!

In another context, we have the story of “Sleeping Beauty” the spinning wheel upon which the Princess Aurora (Dawn) pricks her finger and comes under the witches spell. Spinning and weaving here are symbolic of womanhood. I would argue that the story of the Sleeping Beauty complements the myth of the Fates and Madame Defrage, because despite all of her parents’ efforts, she could not escape her destiny. It had to be lived out.

And finally we have Mahatma Ghandi spinning and weaving cloth. On the surface he was acting in defiance of British rule and British goods. He was leading his countrymen to return to old ways of self-sufficient manufacture. But the power of the images has less to do with unremembered protest than with subliminal common themes of spiritualism that return us once more to the Fates and the fabric of both life and world order.

All of this in an encountered piece of orange and white cloth and an image taken with my IPhone.

Figure 1 – White breasted nuthatch, Sudbury, MA. (c) DE Wolf 2017.

Figure 1 is my first successful image of a white breasted nuthatch – Sitta carolinensis. These are common feeder birds in the Northeast. But they are small and move fast; so it is hard to get close enough for a decent image, especially if you encumber yourself with the rule of only natural settings, that is no feeder allowed in the photograph. The other self-imposed rule is that you want them in their characteristic head down pose, which is how they climbed down trees. Note here the poisoned ivy vines.

I asked my self, self, why are they called nuthatches? They get this common name because of the way that they jam large nuts, such as acorns, into the bark of a tree and then pound on them with there sharp bills so as to “hatch” out the seed from the inside.That according to the Cornell Laboratory of Ornithology, the final arbiter in all things avian.

Canon T2i with EF100-400mm f/4.5-5.6L IS USM lens at 365 mm, ISO 800, Aperture Priority AE Mode 1/640 th sec at f/7.1 with no exposure compensation.