Majestic elms

I’ve spoken about the beauty of trees, of their appeal to a mythic chord within us, and of some of the great photographers, like Beth Moon and Ansel Adams, who have excelled in capturing this special subject.  So not surprisingly I was taken this past Sunday by Guy Trebay’s column in the New York Times Sunday Review about the majestic, vaulting row of elm trees that stretches from 110th to 59th Streets in New York’s Central Park.  Central Park was meant to be a gift top the people of the city and these trees are there for anyone, who pauses long enough from the brutal bustle of the city in winter and looks or photographs.  Indeed the column is accompanied by a beautiful image of the snow covered elms along Poet’s Walk in Central Park by New York Times photographer Craig Blankenhorn. And this image demonstrates that there is beauty even on the gloomiest of winter days – ready to be captured by the camera.

Photographers, of course, are always looking.  And in this sense they really do pause to smell the roses.  If you do a simple Google or Bing search of “Poet’s Walk,” you will find a century’s worth of some really beautiful and wonderful images of Olmstead’s gift to New Yorker’s.  It is spectacular in all seasons.

Figure 1 - Vaulting elms lining Lafayette Street in Salem, Massachusetts in 1910.  From the Wikipedia and reproduced from an original postcard published by the Hugh C. Leighton Company, Portland, Maine In the public domain because of age.

Figure 1 – Vaulting elms lining Lafayette Street in Salem, Massachusetts in 1910. From the Wikipedia and reproduced from an original postcard published by the Hugh C. Leighton Company, Portland, Maine In the public domain because of age.

Great vaulting rows of elms used to line and shade the Main Streets (and Elm Streets) of many American towns.  I include as illustration Figure 1, which show’s Lafayette Street in Salem, Massachusetts in 1910. But most have fallen victim to Dutch Elm Disease.  I remember, as a graduate student at Cornell University in the 1970’s watch the last fight by these glorious trees that once lined the center of the campus.

Winter is ripe with photographic guilt.  There is great beauty outside, but it is also very cold.  So I have to say that Mr. Trebay’s column and Mr. Blankenhorn’s photograph have inspired me anew to venture out in the New England winter to record the glory of trees in snow.

Zena Holloway’s magical underwater world

I promised you some really gorgeous photographic “shtick” today and I am going to deliver.  Someone posted a link to this on one of the Facebook Photo Groups and I was truly amazed and well, bewitched by the imagery. So I’d like to introduce you to the spectacular and truly magical photographs of fashion photographer, Zena Holloway. Ms. Holloway is both a highly talented photographer and an experienced diver.  Her “shtick” is to photograph her models floating under water, usually with equally spectacular clothing floating like ethereal gossamer.  All of this combines to titillate our sense of wonder, of dreaming of merpeople, of defying both gravity, and the need for oxygen.  I for one am totally captivated.

And in directing you to some of her photographs, I am at a loss as to where to begin or which to chose.  For pure magic let’s begin with the image of a woman swimming and entwined with the light of a jelly fish – certainly a hugely difficult picture to construct.  Then there is this wonderful picture of an encounter between a  child and a seal, a touching interspecies moment.  And finally basic, but really intriguing, is this picture of a swimmer with a horse in “Open Water.”. There is a huge amount of work and talented in setting up this kind of shot and elaborate reworking and combining in the light room. The more of Ms. Holloway’s pictures I look at the more I am enchanted.

Photographic shtick and gimmickry

Figure 1 - "I wait" by Julia Margaret Cameron  Wait. The model was Rachel Gurney. From the Wikipedia Commons and the Getty Museum.  In the public domain because it is more than a hundred years old.

Figure 1 – “I wait” by Julia Margaret Cameron Wait. The model was Rachel Gurney.This kind of Christian allegorical image was one of Cameron’s shtick. the Wikipedia Commons and the Getty Museum. In the public domain because it is more than a hundred years old.

I wanted to talk today a little about shtick and gimmickry in photography. According to the Wikipedia, “shtick,” which can also be spelled “schtick,” is derived from the Yiddish word shtik (שטיק), meaning “piece”; the closely related German word Stück has the same meaning.  But that’s really not what it means.  Shtick is often used in the context of comedy – Henny Youngman’s shtick was his violin.  I can just see most of my readers, Henny Who?  Henny Youngman was a comedian who played the violin, it was his shtick or trademark.  Ah, now we are getting somewhere.  The word shtick kind of means trademark, or what sets that person apart from the crowd by creating instant recognition. Alfred Hitchcock and M. Night Shyamalan share a shtick.  They both make cameo appearances in their movies.

If you see a glorious western vista, you immediately think of Ansell Adams, that was his shtick regardless of whether he actually took the photograph.  A great example of photographic shtick is Murad Osmann’s photographic Instagram series/blog “Follow me,” where the photographer and consequently the viewer is led around the world by the back reached hand of his beautiful girlfriend, Nataly Zakharova.  This is what Osman does, you immediately recognize a photograph as being his, and he has attained, well, viral internet recognition.  Similarly we have Diane Arbus, who is famous for her photographs of “deviant and marginal people.”. (I am not sure that I am happy with that phrase, but it is what the wiki on Arbus uses.” But again, such a photograph brings immediate recognition as being either by Arbus or derivative of her.

But then we move into a grayer territory.  Consider, for instance, the mirror distortion photographs that we have previously discussed by Andre Kertesz.  Once again such an image of a nude woman distorted in a circus mirror is immediately associated with Kertesz, but because Kertesz did so many different types of images in his lifetime  his distortion photographs are more a series or a study set, then true persistent shtick.  Likewise, Edward Weston’s salad photographs.

It is a marvelous fact that everyone, who takes and practices photography seriously, brings a unique and recognizable fingerprint to their craft.  One of the best ways to discover yours is to do a theme set of pictures – that is give yourself an assignment to take a series of connected photographs of some particular subject.  You know boats, other photographers taking pictures, hummingbirds, whatever.  Look for the similarities in your vision.  What is it that you always do?

And developing a shtick can be a short cut to achieving ephemeral fame.  This is finding your photographic voice and then adding just a bit of predictable spontaneity, and you’ve got shtick.

My reason for bringing this up, is that I’d like to add the word “shtick” to the Haiti and Skoll vocabulary.  And, by the way, there is nothing wrong with shtick.  It can be really fun, really unique, and truly beautiful. Tomorrow, I’m going to show you some absolutely gorgeous shtick from a contemporary photographer.  But, and for today, I’d like to share one of the little angel photographs of Julia Margaret Cameron, whom we have spoken a lot about.  This kind of Christian allegory was, well you know, one of her shticks!

 

The artist at work

Figure 1 - Daniel Chester French, American Sculptor, in his studio in 1920.  Image from the Smithsonian Institution vis the Wikimedia Commons and has no known copyright restrictions.

Figure 1 – Daniel Chester French, American Sculptor, in his studio in 1920. Image from the Smithsonian Institution vis the Wikimedia Commons and has no known copyright restrictions.

I know that I use the word wonderful a lot.  Still there is a wonderful set of images on MSN showing artists and writers in their studios at work.  It is absolutely delightful! So I felt that I had to share it with all of you.  And apropos of our discussion of how the photographs gives you admittance to another time and place, where you feel at some level to be interacting with the artist, here you feel like you are meeting these people in the flesh – despite the fact that many of them are long gone to us.  Such is the magic of photography. (Psst! I say that a lot too!) I’ve got several favorites among these.  First is a portrait of Ansel Adams working in his studio on a print in 1968.  Second, is an intensely personal picture of David Hockney painting on the floor of his studio in 1967.  And finally, out of deference to a  certain reader Hunter S. Thompson in his studio in 1996.

We learn that these geniuses are just like us.  Some are neat-niks and some are slob-niks.  In some cases the studio is austere and nearly empty.  In other cases it is cluttered and reminiscent of what Joseph Campbell referred to as mythic ruins.  I have included as Figure 1 a similar type of picture of American Sculptor Daniel Chester French in his studio in 1920.  This image is more posed than the images in the series, but still presents and intimacy with the artist and places him among the relics of his own creation – relics that mimic the monumental and the classic.

John Dillwyn Llewelyn, the photographer of Penllergare

 

Figure 1 - John Dillwyn Llewelyn, Theresa, John, and Willie at Caswell, 1853, from the Wikimedia Copmmons and in the public domain.

Figure 1 – John Dillwyn Llewelyn, Theresa, John, and Willie at Caswell, 1853, from the Wikimedia Copmmons and in the public domain.

Last week I was reading about a man in Wales, who was cleaning out his garage in 1973 and came upon a box of old daguerreotypes. His brother-in-law sought the advice of Noel Chanan, a photographer and filmmaker.  The rest, as they say, is history.  The box contained upwards of forty family images by the great-great grandfather of the man, John Dillwyn Llewelyn (1810-1882).  Llewelyn was a British amateur scientist and photographer.  He was married to a cousin of Henry Fox Talbot.

Llewelyn’s earliest attempts at photography were not, in his opinion, all that successful.  He experimented both with Talbot’s process and with daugerreotypes.  After a few years he abandoned photography, but picked it up again in the 1850′ s by which time the processes had advanced considerably.  He invented what he called the “oxymel process,” which combined honey and vinegar to produce a dry plate.  This was important because the wet colloidal process, then in use, was cumbersome in that it required the photographer to immediately develop his/her negatives.  With the “oxymel process” the glass negative could be held for a few days before developing.  He is also credited with the invention of an instantaneous shutter – enabling for instance the photgraphs of breaking waves and moving water.

Many of Llewellyn’s photographs can be seen on Noel Chanan’s website.  He has also recently released a biography of John Dillwyn Llewelyn, “The Photographer of Penllergare,” which is available through the website.

Figure 1 is an excellent example of Llewellyn’s work. It shows his family (Theresa, John, and Willie at Caswell in 1853).  This is precisely the kind of intimate glimpse of nineteenth century life that we have been talking about.  There is a sharp freshness to the scene, and we almost imagine that we are there with them.  They do not stare back at us, but rather appear to be involved with each other.  They seem however, as I have suggested before, not oblivious to us, but rather seem to know that we are out there (here).

Both the book and Mr. Chanan’s website are filled with this kind of familial image. But there are other outstanding gems as well.  I particularly like “The Stag, 1856,” which appeals to a sense of English mythology and was taken using a taxidermy specimen because a real stag could not be counted upon to stand still long enough for proper composition and exposure.  I also think that “St. Catherine’s Island, Tenby, 1854″  is as fine a piece of landscape photography as I have ever seen.  As is always the case we can learn a lot from these early photographic pioneers.  Their compositions a classical sense of what a picture should be.

 

Images of the first winter Olympics

Figure 1 - Gold medal figure skater Gillis Grafström at the 1924 winter games in Chamonix, FR.  Image from the Wikimedia Commons uploaded by Scanpix, photographer unknown, in the public domain.

Figure 1 – Gold medal figure skater Gillis Grafström at the 1924 winter games in Chamonix, FR. Image from the Wikimedia Commons uploaded by Scanpix, photographer unknown, in the public domain.

A link containing some wonderful photographs from the first winter Olympics in Chamonix, France was brought to my attention by reader and friend, Wendy.  I just couldn’t resisted reposting them along with Figure 1, which shows three time gold medalist in men’s figure skating, Gillis Grafström, of Sweden, in Chamonix in 1924.

About 250 athletes participated in the 1924 winter Olympics and there were 16 events including: alpine and cross-country skiing, figure skating, ice hockey, Nordic combined, ski jumping, and speed skating. The winter games were held regularly every four years until 1936.  The 1940 games were awarded to Saporo, Japan but this was cancelled with the Japanese invasion of China.  The Winter Olympics resumed in 1948.  They held every four years.  In 1992 it was decided to stagger the winter and summer games by two years.  So the winter games were held in 1992 and then again in 1994, when the four year cycle resumed.

Pictures such as these evoke two feelings, to me at least.  One is a sense of nostalgia and the lost innocence of simplicity.  The games have become multimedia events and very glitzy.  The other sense, and maybe it’s because of what’s going on outside my window right now, is one of how cold everything looks.  But several points are universal, the spirit of youth and the concept of bridging borders through sports.

A man-made underground river in Brazil

On Wednesday we spoke about droughts in the American West, Floods in the United Kingdom, and about the whole issue of global warming.  Today we are hunkering down in front of the fire as New England is once again walloped with a snow storm.  It’s really getting pretty repetitive and boring.  While weather is forefront in my mind, I promised myself that I would not post yet another snow picture.

OK so how about this.  The picture is from January 28 by Ueslei Marcelino of Reuters and takes us inside the Cuncas II tunnel near the Brazillian city of Mauriti in the
Ceara state, Brazil.  The $6.8 billion  tunnel, if it is ever finished, is meant to link canals that will  divert water from the Sao Francisco river to agricultural land in four
drought-plagued states.  The project is, like all such projects three years behind schedule and already at double cost.

The picture to me is amazing.  The man gives size perspective – man and what man creates. And of course, we are haunted by the knowledge that a lot of such projects have unforeseen ecological consequences.  The reflections create an other worldliness.  Tunnel imagery in mythology and its ultimate connection with birth we have already discussed.  Hey, I’m not making this stuff up.  There’s a reason that tunnels are so haunting. Here what seems most important are the allusions to classical mythology that describe journeys in tunnels (where the protagonist swallows a hard gulp of innate claustrophobia and ventures forth, Yes, to be reborn!): to Dante, to Beowulf, to Alice in Wonderland, and even to the Hobbit.

 

Dramatic weather

It seems to me that as winter rolls around, we find ourselves talking more and more about the weather.  We talk about it in person, we talk about it on social media, and we are bombarded by images of the weather .  This is arguably the great oppression of winter.  The rest of the year you hardly think about.  But winter…

Anyway, this morning I was scanning the weather photos and found a couple that pretty much say it all.  The first taken on February 6 in Bakersfield, California by David McNew for Getty Images shows a sign warning people not to jump off a bridge into the river below.  It is sage advice since the river bed is total dry and free of water free. California is in its third year of drought and is suffering through the driest year in 119 years of record keeping.

The second image was taken by Mathew Horwood on February 5 and shows waves breaking over the harbor wall in Porthcawl, United Kingdom.England has been experiencing an unusually rash period of storms and flooding this year. More than 130 severe flood warnings were issued since December 2013.  This contrasts with only nine in the whole of 2012.

What is, of course, the most amazing aspect of the second picture is all the people standing there and watch.  I mean, “Hello!  Anyone worried about being swept at to sea?”  I guess not.  I mean you can just go home and watch the videos and look at the photographs in you dry and cozy living room.

Now I know that I am supposed to stop here and not get into the subject of climate change.  However, I get kind of upset whenever there is an affront to science as basic as this.  There are natural weather and climate cycles – but there is also a very troubling manmade effects.  Indeed, the British Met Office is coming down pretty strongly in arguing that these winter storms are caused by global warming.   The effect of mankind on the Earth’s climate is a proven fact – despite all the claims to the contrary made by hosts of people, who are not qualified to express their opinions on the subject.  There are many places on the Earth, where people live dangerous close to the temperature limit where human life becomes untenable.  We are expert at not reacting intelligently to global problems both because they are difficult and because they are inconvenient.

So while to first order these pictures are beautiful even whimsical, at another level they hold a much deeper and profound message.  It is a message that we cannot really afford to ignore!

The Beatles in America

Figure 1 - The Beatles waving to fans on their arrival at JFK Airport in New York City on Feb. 7, 1964.  UPI photograph, photographer unknown, from the LOC via the Wikimediacommons and in the public domain.

Figure 1 – The Beatles waving to fans on their arrival at JFK Airport in New York City on Feb. 7, 1964. UPI photograph, photographer unknown, from the LOC via the Wikimediacommons and in the public domain.

The problem with great moments in history is that soon enough your own lifetime encompasses so many of them, and your brain fills with images and olfactory remembrances.  Well, fifty years ago today on February 7, 1964 the Beatles arrived in America.  It was as much as any one cultural event, a truly defining moment.  We were moving rapidly from the age of the by then murdered John F. Kennedy to the age of Lyndon B. Johnson and Richard M. Nixon.  The early sixties were one world the ten years from say 1964 to 1974 quite another.  To my mind what we now refer to as “the sixties” really spanned that shifted decade, and the Beatles arrival was one place marker of its beginning.  Anyway, I remember it all too well!

Figure 1 shows the Beatles arriving at JFK airport in New York and waving to fans.  It is from the archives of the Library of Congress and was taken by an unknown UPI photographer. More significantly, I was reading John Estrin’s Lens Blog in the New York Times, which details the career of Bill Eppridge (1938-2013). He is, perhaps, best known for his 1968 image of busboy Juan Romero comforting the mortally wounded Robert F. Kennedy.  At age 26, Eppridge covered the Beatles’ arrival for Life Magazine.   Eppridge recognized the significance of the event and followed the Beatles for the six days of their US tour. He shot an amazing 90 rolls of film.  But with the exception of the four images published by Life these were unknown until this week when Eppridges work will be published by Rizzoli in a new book, “The Beatles: Six Days That Changed the World.”

Of course, there’s nothing like seeing the real thing.  Bill Eppridge’s photographs of the Beatles’ tour will be on exhibit at the Museum at Bethel Woods in Bethel, N.Y., beginning on April 5, and at the Monroe Gallery of Photography in Santa Fe, N.M., starting April 25.